Protector of Men III: The Matrix Relegations
by choirgrlalex
Summary: THIRD INSTALLMENT What if Neo chose the other door? What if Zion was restarted? And what if two generations never meant to know the truth met each other? Story finished, finally!
1. Still Answerless

Protector of Men Ch 77.

**See that up there? It says "Chapter 77". This is the third part of a story that I have been writing for a long time, and **though it's not altogether necessary to read the first two parts, I'd recommend it**. The characters in this story have already been introduced, and the plot has already twisted many times. So if you'd like to read the first two parts, click on my name and you should find "Protector of Men" Installments one and two. This is the last installment!**

"Hey honey," the Oracle observed, a grin spreading across her wizened face, "You're back again."

"I need to see Neo."

"All in good time," she soothed, "There's no rush. No rush at all."

"I have to talk with him."

The Oracle paused, tilted her head to the side as she postponed a puff from her cigarette.

"Why don't you trust me," she asked, "The others all do."

Zandra was silent; a part of her suddenly became very nervous. The Oracle sighed, and put out her cigarette in an ashtray to her right.

"Well I won't force ya, but you've gotta know – I'm on your side."

Zandra eyed her warily, but nodded.

"I know you're still confused, and that's why you're asking him. But I can still help."

"Then what do I do?"

"Play to your strengths, honey – let them see what you're known for." She paused, then continued a little quieter: "That's all I can tell you for now."

"Can I see him?"

"No problem kiddo: the door's on your left."

Zandra looked; it was there.

"Tell him I said hello," the Oracle called from behind her.

"Thank you," Zandra whispered before opening the door.

"Any time," the Oracle offered, and lit another cigarette.

It was darker than before, and emptier. There were wooden floors, wooden walls, and paneled ceilings. There were no windows, but light emanated from cracks in the shabbily dressed walls. Zandra ventured forward.

"Neo?" she asked, craning her neck.

"I'm here," he said, startling Zandra by his closeness. She could see the pale reflection in his dark eyes and followed him further into the room. He sat down, and she across from him in two lonely chairs. 

"So did everything work out?"

"Almost. We lost one of ours to a sentinel."

Neo closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly. 

"They're getting thicker," Zandra mentioned, trying to draw information.

Neo nodded again. "They always will."

"What can we do?"

"Not much," he answered, looking towards the ground. Flashes of the past seared through his mind, leaving him temporarily thoughtless. 

_Sentinels._

Noise.

Searing heat.

Trinity…

"What did you do last time?"

_Last time?_ Neo was shaken out of his trance, and tried to recollect. Last time was an age ago. Last time was a failure, the culmination of a weak link that broke the chain.

"Last time we failed."

Zandra was quiet. 

"I have to know what to do," Zandra told him, her eyes straining from an exertion of focus. It was still dark, and she was becoming exasperated. There were no answers from Neo; and he was her last hope.

"They're looking to me."

"I know," he answered, equally quietly. "But what can be done?" His tone was hopeless.

"You can tell me the truth about everything," Zandra asserted. Neo closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed again. He seemed weary; as if he had no will to talk, to explain, even to live.

"Everything?"

"Tell me why I don't trust the Oracle. Tell me why Smith wanted you, tell me why I'm their leader but I don't know the way. I need to know."

"You won't like the answers," he told her, his eyes gleaming again in the dim light. 

"But I can't lead if I don't know."

Neo paused; again he sighed. 

"The Oracle isn't innocent. I don't want to ruin my safety, she's just not what you think."

"What is she?"

"She's been here since before I was around."

"She can't be human," Zandra whispered, now worried that the woman could hear her speak.

"She's not, and I don't know what side she's on."

Zandra was quiet, and he continued darker: "I thought she was helping us, but we ended up right where we started."

"But she's got so much sway."

"She always will. Just don't trust her too much."

Now Zandra sighed, and crossed her legs on the chair she sat. His answer was useless: Zandra already distrusted her, and he gave her no alternative. Neo's eyes still glimmered in the dark.

"Smith was made to destroy me," he continued, now looking around in the darkened room, "But he can't find me now."

They were both quiet for a while; Zandra followed Neo's example and let her eyes wander. The room was bare, only two chairs rested in the middle of the room, while crack-ridden boards comprised the walls of the hut. Sunlight - or what Zandra supposed was sunlight, streamed in from cracks and created emaciated rays of brightness in the gloomy area.

"What do I do?" she finally asked, breaking the long silence. Neo's head snapped back to her.

"Don't do what they tell you to do," he said, with a sudden intensity in his glare that Zandra was almost alarmed by.

"Tell me? Who?"

"Don't go to the Merovingian again. Only see the Oracle if you have to, and don't go to the Architect. Everything ends there; it can't happen again."

Another flash from the past:

_Televisions._

Heightened language.

Trinity…

"What do I do instead?" she asked, becoming frustrated. Everywhere she went they told her what _not_ to do, but no one knew the true answer. 

"Unplug people," he answered in a monotone tenor. "Build up the army before they strike."

"How do I do that?" she asked, "It's so slow."

"I don't know. You'll have to figure that out yourself."

Zandra sighed again and stood up. Again, Neo was proving himself to be more of a burden than a help. 

"What is it?" he asked, getting up as well.

"Just so many questions," Zandra answered. Neo's eyes were dark; they did not glint in the light. He watched her for a moment, looked into her. Sadness washed over him; he could remember when he too once felt the burning desire for knowledge, he once yearned for the truth. But in all of the years – alone – he learned that truth wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a peace that would never last; a peace that was unfeasible in the world that he lived in. Now that living was a technicality, it was different. There were no cares. There was no feeling. There was only the constant grief that had pervaded his being and made it a part of him. Sadness wasn't a feeling anymore; sadness _was_ him. There was only a will to survive; a will that frustrated him in its very persistence. There was no _survival_ in this world, only perseverance. There was no purpose in his being, but he still persisted. It was a life without meaning; a life without existence.

Thomas Anderson had become a program.

"I just don't know where I can find the answers."

Neo was still silent, and Zandra walked to the door. One last look at him, and she left. 

A/N – wow. That's all I can say. Revolutions kicked my ass, and now this story seems ridiculous. I'm still writing it – don't get me wrong I love this story – but it just seems old. Reloaded is over. Revolutions is over. So sorry if the tone changes, but I think it's inevitable.


	2. Retroactivity

Protector of Men Ch 78

"What'd they tell you?" Shade asked. He and Zandra sat on the floor of Libertas; each nestled against a wall in the one hallway it possessed. It was late, and everyone else was already asleep. Zandra was obviously tired, but she more needed someone to talk to rather than rest.

"They told me to play to my strengths." She stared at the ground in silence, half out of frustration and half out of fatigue. They were both quiet for a while.

"What?" Shade finally asked. It was clear she needed something off her chest.

"What kind of an answer is that?" she asked quietly.

"Play to your strengths?" he repeated, "A confusing one, I guess."

"Every time I go, I end up with more questions."

"Cover really believes in them," he said.

"I know, and I'm not trying to discount them. I just never know what they're trying to tell me."

"Well I think the _message_ is easy enough – it's what you make of it that you have to think about."

Zandra sighed and was quiet.

"Come on Zandra," Shade said after a moment, "You can't tell me what your strengths are?"

The question was posed more to elicit a response, but it ended up sounding more caring than leading. He found himself liking the unintentional meaning once the words had actually spilled from his careless mouth.

"Alias told me you were top of your class."

"When did she say that?"

"Long time ago. Like two months."

"Oh." She paused.

"Why don't you play on that," he said, "Didn't you do a presentation on the matrix?"

"Not really."

"Zandra, come on."

She humored him and put on the best face she could muster - though he wouldn't have cared either way.

"I'm just trying to help."

"I know," she said after a second, "Maybe I'll contact some old professors or something."

Shade smiled, and Zandra felt the urge to join him. Funny how feelings were contagious – and especially on Libertas. Because the ship was so small, things traveled exceedingly quickly. Usually there was only the one collective mood of the crew; a façade that others would have seen as closeness. But no, it was only five very tired people in a very small metal space.

"See?" Shade said, "Now we have a plan."

"I guess so," Zandra said, attempting to stifle a yawn.

"We should probably get to bed."

"Right, right."

And with a few small smiles, half-steps, and sideways glances, the two parted ways to sleep.

Zandra closed the door softly - though she knew it was not necessary. Kesia was a heavy sleeper. The room was small – that was no surprise - and harbored only one bed. Kesia had only agreed to take it once Zandra had actually gotten frustrated with her refusals. On the floor lay two blankets and a lopsided pillow that had been set up for her earlier in the day. It would be cold, but Zandra would survive. It was actually warmer than Purgatory, though that was probably only because there was less of an area for warm air to circulate in.

She sat on the floor and peeled open her two layers of light sheets. And though the pillow was lopsided, it was after all something to rest her head on. Like almost every day, Zandra had worked long and sleep arrived quickly.

It was a passive dream: Zandra was sitting at her computer and her instant messenger was on. 

**FreeWilly00:** Did you talk to him yet?

It was her brother, William. He was always the typical older brother – guarding, guiding. Alex was supposed to talk to Princeton's physics faculty about her presentation, but was still too nervous to actually do it. Explaining her idea to the department head was daunting, and so far she hadn't yet mustered up the courage to initiate the meeting.

**SRCHNG4veritas**: hey, hey

**SRCHNG4veritas:** the dept head's got a sn

**SRCHNG4veritas:** I'll talk to him now, k?

William then got defensive, but only playfully so. Alex only needed a little prodding, that was all. She opened a new box titled "IM: PaulSherman7" and prepared herself for the coming conversation.

**SRCHNG4veritas: **Hi Dr. Sherman, this is Alexandra Richards from Physics II. Do you have a moment?

The seconds ticked by slowly as she anticipated a response. William was now happily waffling on about a new pointless topic, and therefore she was largely ignoring him.

**PaulSherman7: **Hello, Alexandra! I have lots of time. Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about?

**SRCHNG4veritas: **Well… I was actually hoping to brief you on my presentation topic. Would now be a good time for that?

**PaulSherman7:** Of course. I've heard a little of your project from Dr. Weiss and Dr. Smith, but please – I'd like to hear your topic firsthand. 

**SRCHNG4veritas:** My full outline is here:

****

DIRECT CONNECTION FROM SRCHNG4veritas TO PaulSherman7 REQUESTED.

DIRECT CONNECTION ACCEPTED; FILE "C:/My Documents/MatrixianTheory.doc" **SENT TO: PaulSherman7.**

**SRCHNG4veritas:** Generally, I'm hoping to expand on Dr. Roberts' theory of universal holograms, and provide some backing for it through observation.

**PaulSherman7:** That's very ambitious, Alexandra. I'm sure you'll do a good job, but I want you to know that will be a hard one. Dr. Roberts has received a lot of criticism for his work.

**SRCHING4veritas:** I understand, sir. Nonetheless, I would still like to research this topic.

His responses were becoming harder to wait for, especially now that she had given him her outline. The gauntlet would be dropped soon… and Alex sat wringing her hands in anticipation. It was all true: Dr. Roberts _had_ been criticized for his work on the hologram theory, even _ridiculed_ for his ideas. But it was such a fascinating idea, such an amazing proposition that to pass it up would be ridiculous. It was right up her alley: a mixture not only of physics and astronomy, but of mathematics, even theology. If the world was a hologram, then what was _real?_

Simply fascinating.

**PaulSherman7:** I'm looking at your outline now, Alexandra, and it's very well done. I'll print out a copy of it tonight and look at it while I prepare my lectures… but it seems to me like you know what you're doing. Clearly solid preparations. For now I'm off to work, but I will see you at our next staff encounter!

**SRCHNG4veritas:** Thank you, sir. I appreciate your time.

****

PaulSherman7 HAS SIGNED OFF.

SRCHNG4veritas: hey will I gotta run – talked to Sherman and he likes it!!

**FreeWilly00:** Congratulations! Love you

**SRCHNG4veritas:** you too. bye

****

SRCHNG4veritas HAS SIGNED OFF.

FreeWilly00 HAS SIGNED OFF.

A/N – I'm singing at the White House so blah to you. How's THAT for exciting? Talk about an important crowd….


	3. A Surprising Disturbance

Protector of Men Ch 79

The crew of Libertas was settled in the mess room. Cover had called a meeting and since none of the crew had any idea why it had been arranged, they arrived early. Looks of uncertainty and concern ricocheted against the metal hull of Libertas, and tension was rising.

"Things are changing," Cover first announced, looking at each of the crew in turn. His eyes stopped on Zandra. "And I think soon it will become obvious that accommodating these changes will not be easy." His tone was serious, and the air was so dead that it chilled each of the crew.

"I recently spoke with the Oracle… and things did not sound good."

"When did you see her?" Zandra asked, breaking the crew's silence.

"While you were with Neo," he answered. "It has been almost thirty-four years since this war started, and since then, Zion has grown to hold almost fifty thousand people. The Oracle told me that the machines start the _real_ battle at thirty."

They wanted to ask what it meant, but they already knew. The real battle would start.

"We're headed into darker times. They'll start looking for Zion now – and I've already contacted the dock to give them a heads up. They told me the search already began a few hours ago.

"Two ships were downed today – and they were only 40 kilometers away from home. Our last trial in Purgatory was the largest attack by sentinels ever… but I have a feeling that will change soon." He then gestured to Kesia, and in unison all eyes switched from their commander to their operator, hungry for more information.

"Kesia can tell you why you're not jacked in right now – and it's because the sentinels are guarding our broadcast depth."

He looked again to Zandra, and now all eyes were on her. His visage was oddly darkened, and it seemed to her that he wasn't himself. She had known her captain for a few months and his speeches were never over two sentences long. The Oracle must had said something big – though Zandra wasn't sure exactly what.

"Every jack has to count," he said, still staring at her. "We have to unplug as many bluepills as we can, as fast as we can."

Zandra nodded – the connections were slowly taking shape in her mind. More bluepills meant more soldiers, and more soldiers meant a better chance of victory when the real battle started.

"As soon as we find an opening, you and Shade are going in. The Oracle asserted – and I feel comfortable – that you'll know what to do once you're there."

Zandra nodded and looked to Shade. He was nodding too.

"It looks like we have a plan," Cover said, his thin smile making a quick cameo before disappearing again.

Soon the crew made their way out of the mess hall. Zandra stayed behind though, figuring that it would be best to eat now rather than later. It was going to be a long day again."So what's your plan?"

She turned around startled, but it was only Trim. He was sitting against the wall of the mess room, playing with some fringe on the end of his shirt. It looked like it had been played with before; much of his shirt was looking raggedy and pulled.

"Oh," she replied, "I'm not sure. I think I'll contact an old professor of mine."

Trim nodded a few times to himself, but he looked angry. Zandra decided not to delve further, and instead got out a bowl for herself. Trim got up as she poured some single-cell, and he sat across from her as she plunked down in a seat. His eyes were cold, almost menacing. Zandra was silent as he talked.

"So why does he keep letting Shade go in," he asked, shaking his head a little. Again Zandra said nothing.

"I don't get it," he continued, "This guy's been with the crew for half as long, and has even less experience than me.

"I bet the only reason Cover's putting him in is because he's older."

They were quiet for a second. She should have guessed this was coming – especially since Alias was gone. Trim really didn't have anyone to talk to anymore: Kemp was dead, and Alias wasn't with the crew anymore. Therefore, he'd turn to her.

"Do you see what I'm saying?"

Zandra nodded quickly; "Yes, yes."

"I'm glad _someone_ does. I just… he gets _all_ the credit around here for being the big guy and I'm doing all the work." He suddenly got much quieter, and spoke almost to himself: "It's only because he's with you that he gets anything done."

She had caught his obvious aside, but decided not to pursue it. The rest of her breakfast was eaten in silence, and Trim left soon with a grimace and shake of the head. He had become much angrier lately – and Zandra didn't know what to attribute it to. Whether it was hormones, or just growing up, or something more…

They had to be close – that was the only way they'd succeed; perhaps the only way they'd survive. Purgatory had gone through a lot of jarring changes: from Zandra's introduction, to Alias' paralysis, to Stephen's death, to Kemp's arrival and premature departure, and now to Alias' dropping out. They were all that was left of Purgatory, and they'd have to work together to persevere. Trim was worrying her, and not only because of his attitude. Why had he volunteered to leave? Questions ate at her from the inside, but that was normal. Just another thought to ignore.

Her dreams were becoming more profuse, and though she didn't remember them as often, there were more of them to forget. They were always so _mundane_; so much like memories that it was hard to tell what was real and what was not. For Zandra, it was always a test in the mornings to see whether she was still in her dreams or not. 

At least they weren't about Stephen anymore. Though she still dwelled on his passing often, it hadn't dominated her sleep for a few weeks now, and she was grateful. Now her nights were filled with thoughts about her presentation, about her life right before the truth… and it made her more aware of what was to come. The time was coming for her to do something drastic, and whether it had something to do with the prophecy she did not know. She had already decided that it was her duty to act on their perception of her, but yet had no firm idea why. Other people believed in her, and she had to live up to their expectations. That was how she had always worked. Not doing so would break the resistance, she figured, and therefore she had steeled herself to be the One whether she truly was or no.

The Oracle had finally gotten to her.

But the question still remained: what was their plan? She knew she wanted to contact a professor of hers, but which one was a mystery to her. There had been a dream… something had reminded her of a professor… _Sherman_? Surely there had to be a way to contact him, or at least find his whereabouts. She decided to ask Kesia, and quickly made her way down the small hallway of Libertas to find her.

"We've found a spot to rest, so Zandra and Shade get ready."

The PA soon crackled back into silence, and Libertas got into action. Zandra stood where she was: sitting upright on one of the jack chairs. There was a plan now – and just in time. Kesia would find her professor, and they would speak to him. Hopefully he would listen to them, and hopefully agents wouldn't be deployed too quickly. Zandra had a feeling that Shade wasn't an equal match to their supreme abilities, and dreaded another showdown. 

Cover soon came in, and Zandra briefed him on her mission. She was going to jack in, log onto a free-port computer, and contact her professor through an internet connection. Once she had given him the information, she'd transmit a virus with the same information into email services. It was the perfect plan. _The perfect hack_ – not only was it a hack into the matrix, but a hack _within_ the program. They would expose the system from the inside out. At least, that was the plan.

Only Kesia and Cover watched as they jacked in. 

"In and out," Cover repeated seriously, "We can't waste time when the sentinels are around."

Zandra nodded from the reclined seat. "In and out."

"Good luck," he said, and thrust the needle in. The world went black, and Zandra was back in her element. 

A/N – I'm planning on making a fanfic tips/meeting website, anyone have any ideas? Planning on having general info, info on posting, on how to maintain OC's, how to make believable CC's, genre writing, and theory. Anything else? Oh, and I'll of course have a link to my story.


	4. Simple Evaluations

Protector of Men Ch 80

"Thanks Kesia," Zandra said into her cellphone, "Everything's here."

She hung up the phone and placed it on the square desk in front of them. On top of the desk lay only a laptop computer, and two chairs sat in front of it. It wasn't a glamorous mission, but it had a purpose. They were to contact Dr. Sherman and hopefully make a convert out of him – all from a computer in an empty building. 

"Let's get started," Zandra said. She motioned for Shade to get at the computer, and pulled a chair back for herself. The two sat back to back – Shade facing the computer, and Zandra facing the door. There were no second chances now, and every moment would count. Too many squids, too many agents. And that meant they had to be on their guard constantly.

"I'm starting up our internet," Shade said. Zandra could hear the laptop booting up behind her, and knew that the real job would be starting soon. It was a twist on a standard procedure; they were recruiting a coppertop. The twist was their bluepill wasn't a hacker, nor was he even interested in the matrix. 

"Everything alright back there?" he asked. Zandra laughed quietly.

"Looking good."

"PaulSherman7 is on and available," he announced, adjusting himself in his chair, "What do you want to say?"

"Say hello first."

**ItHasYou:** Hello, Dr. Sherman.

**PaulSherman7:** Who is this?

"He wants to know who it is."

"Tell him it's an old accomplice."

**ItHasYou:** An old accomplice, persay.

**PaulSherman7:** Accomplice? I'd scarcely use that term in my field.

"He says he doesn't use that term."

Zandra was quiet for a second. That term had been a minute joke amongst the two of them, but it would make sense if he didn't recognize it. She had been gone for months, and rumors were running that redpills were terrorists once they jacked out.

"Okay. Ask him if he's looked at the sky lately."

**ItHasYou:** Have you looked to the sky lately?

**PaulSherman7: **It's one of my passions. Who is this?

"He wants to know who it is."

"We're just interested in what the stars have to tell us."

**ItHasYou:** Just someone interested in what the stars have to tell us.

**ItHasYou:** It's got you, Dr. Sherman.

**PaulSherman7:** Excuse me.

****

CONNECTION LOST: PaulSherman7 HAS LOGGED OFF.

"He logged off."

"Then get him again."

"What do I say?

"Ask him why he looks for clues when they're right above his head."

****

AUTOMATIC PORT INTERFACE TO IP:***.***.*.*** .

PORT 80 ACCESSED.

****

Untitled: Still looking for the clues? They yet hang over your head; you only need to look to see the truth.

****

Untitled1: Who the hell is this?

****

Untitled: A changed person who you used to teach.

****

Untitled1: Is this some kind of joke? This isn't funny.

"What's going on?" Zandra asked.

"He's pissed."

"We don't have a lot of time. Give him the closing speech and let's get out."

****

Untitled: I'm sorry, Doctor, my time is up. I leave you with this: No one leaves without a trace.

****

Untitled: The Matrix still surrounds you; the only solace you'll find is in the stars. 

****

Untitled: Meet me past Orion's Belt, and we may yet run into each other.

"Done?" Zandra asked again.

"Done."

The two registered the sound of sirens outside at the same time. Shade slammed the laptop closed instantly. It took only another moment for him to fire once, rendering the computer a pile of smoking plastic. 

"Go _now_," Zandra urged, pushing him out of the small door and down the hallway. Only two rooms to go and they were out. Right as Zandra made her way into the hallway the door behind them burst open, and shouts of "Freeze!" echoed their way.

"Go!" Zandra shouted, picking up her pace. Shade didn't look back.

Guns began firing behind them. Zandra heard them coming like trains on approach, but they never found their target: the two rebels were in the room before any harm could be done. Soon the phone rang and Shade was gone.

The phone rang again. Zandra picked it up, and right before she left an agent burst into the room. All she saw was a brief glimpse of his rage before she left the matrix. The world turned black and she was back in Libertas.

"Do you think it worked?" Kesia asked at the mess table. Zandra shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out in a while."

They all nodded in silent agreement. Zandra looked to Trim, but he didn't return her glance. He was staring at the table, his eyes dark and lips thin. Something was going on, and visions of their last encounter kept replaying in her mind. 

"Zandra," Cover asked, "Is there anyone else we can contact in the meantime?"

She thought for a moment, but no names came to mind.

"It's been a while," she admitted, "But I'll think of some."

Cover nodded again. "We've got to keep moving quickly. There is not much time before our broadcast depth is compromised."

Again the crew nodded in agreement. Cover again looked to Zandra, and proceeded to give her instructions – or rather orders – regarding plans for their next jack.

"For the rest of the day I think you should make a list of the people you want to contact. Maybe tomorrow we can go back in, if you have a viable candidate."

"Okay," she answered. Everyone was silent. Cover nodded once and abruptly got up.

"Let's get some rest then," he said. Everyone else got up too, and people began to leave. Zandra watched as Trim rolled his eyes as he walked out the door. She looked to Cover, but he hadn't seen it. She wanted to tell him that something was wrong, but her conscience told her not to. It wasn't her place to make waves in the crew, and they were going through some hard times. Maybe Trim was just having a bad week. Maybe it was puberty – Trim didn't look over twenty, so that would have made sense enough. She didn't know, but she wasn't going to think about it any longer.

It was time for her to think – and the only possible place for that would be her bunk. She made her way to the room slowly as each of the crew found their own nook to pass the time in. She half expected Shade to be at her door, sitting there with a smile… but he wasn't. Nor was Kesia inside the bunk to greet her. Zandra sat on the cold floor atop her two covers and leaned against the metal hull. It was going to be a long and lonely day. So much had already happened, and it wasn't even halfway over. Zandra spent a few hours thinking, and more sleeping. Kesia came in only when it was sure that Zandra was not awake anymore. Kesia couldn't help but smile at the image of her sleeping on the cold floor. When awake she was a warrior but here, in the dark of night, she was delicate. 

A/N – Thanksgiving break! Ah. I love sleeping in. Anyone have any insight to a fanfic discussion website? I'm really hoping it's more of a collaboration of ideas, because I really don't think that people would find much help from solely my insight. So please, if you have any ideas tell me!

Zuma – Trim is just about 18. Darn that testosterone!


	5. Rest and Rejuvination

Protector of Men Ch 81

Professor Sherman wasn't sleeping well. Something had disturbed him the night before that left him to constantly revisit his unusual conversation hours before. Things were definitely strange: not only had the visitor mentioned that she had been an old student of his, but she used the term 'accomplice'. Only once had he used that term before.

It was disconcerting to think what the conversation might have become had he stayed with her longer. It _must_ have been her - all the signs pointed to it. 

He sat at his computer, eyes bleary from overuse. Before him were countless windows, many resting under others and out of view. _No one disappears without a trace. _

"_Alexandra Richards Suspected to be Kidnapped_"

"_Still No Leads, Police Say_"

Many were from newspapers, government sources. But not all:

"_Richards Spotted in Paris, France_"

"_She Can Fly: Richards Spotted Performing Impossible Acts_"

And each led him deeper down the tunnel. Perhaps it was his incorrigible curiosity, but something led him to think that Miss Richards wasn't gone after all. 

He was at his telescope, adjusting the input data. It was nearly morning – not much time for observation, though a little would be enough to satisfy him for the moment. 83º 45' West longitude and 42º 17' North latitude. The image was ruddy and blurred, but that was all he needed: Orion's belt. Perhaps the tunnel would show to be deeper…

But something still caught his eye. Something was familiar about this picture… was it deja-vu? It must have been. Dr. Sherman stood next to his telescope, staring up to the sky. 

"What is it?" he asked aloud. As he would have guessed, there was no answer. He looked through the eyepiece again, but the same image presented itself to him. Something still nagged at him – there was something about this that was familiar. He had seen this before – this exact image before, but when was it? The professor racked his tired brain for minutes, attempting to figure out when he had observed this before. Was it a meeting, a _presentation_? Professor Sherman stopped.

The holographic universe.

Zandra woke up in a sweat and found herself wide-awake. Her dream was unsettling: both in its vividity and in its subject. She had dreamt about Professor Sherman, and it seemed so real… so present… that she questioned her lucidity. Either way, she wasn't getting back to sleep. She quietly got off of the floor and tiptoed out of the room, making sure not to wake Kesia. Someone else was up.

"Have you been busy?" she heard, a little muffled over the sound of Libertas' air purifier. Curious, she walked further down the hallway. There was a reply, but it was too muffled to hear. She moved closer, but stopped before entering the main deck. It sounded like someone was on the videophone.

"Yeah, I understand. How's the newbie?"

"Good, good… [mrifflegh] last week. Did you [ullyhgh]… decision?"

Zandra inched closer still – at the same time hungry for the conversation, but also afraid to eavesdrop. It sounded like a woman on the line, and it was definitely Cover that was on the connection. 

"I'll do it silently," he answered.

"[mrff]… to tell them?"

"No. I'll just casually keep it posted. It's got to be done, but I don't think it should be paraded."

"I agree about that."

There was a silence then, and for a moment Zandra was worried that she had been found out. But a second later the woman started speaking again.

"But Cover… [mpleggh] necessary to change it?"

"At this point I think so. Our crew has completely changed, and I think this would be a minute addition."

She was quiet, so he explained further: "If something happens, the best candidate needs to be in charge."

"Why not Zandra?" the woman asked. Zandra's heart started pounding in her chest at the sound of her name.

"She doesn't know enough about the real world," he answered, "And Shade does."

"I guess […] true enough. I just [wrehkll]… they'll react."

"I don't know, but I guess I'll find out."

There was silence again.

"Well," Cover restarted, "I'd better head out. The crew'll be up soon."

"Me too."

"I'm sorry we don't get to talk as much anymore," he said, a little softer in his tone.

"Me too."

"We'll have to rendezvous in Zion again."

"I know. [Limnhy] know when you're […]."

"I look forward to it."

"Me too."

"Over and out," he said, and everything was quiet. Zandra was still again and listened for any movement. She didn't want to be found, because that would mean she had eavesdropped on her captain. Her eyes grew wide as the seconds grew longer.

"Hey Zandra."

She turned around, surprised – but it was only Trim. He wore a smile that confused her, but she dismissed it as only strange because of its rarity.

"Hey Trim. Just get up?"

"Maybe a minute ago. Got a contact?"

Zandra paused a second before answering. Something was definitely odd about him – but was it only because he usually wasn't as cheerful as he seemed to be now?

"A few candidates, but none are concrete."

"I see."

They were quiet, but Trim soon spoke up again:

"I made an upgrade to that virus today – just in case you want to use it sometime."

Zandra nodded again. "Yeah," she answered, "I'd appreciate that." She sighed, her nerves beginning to subside. Cover still hadn't shown up yet.

"You mean you and Shade."

"Ah, I think so."

Now Trim nodded. In a moment he had excused himself from their conversation and was gone, again confounding Zandra with his fleeting moods. After a few seconds she too decided to abandon her little cubby of Libertas for the mess room. She was frustrated - frustrated about everything. She was supposed to be leading the war against the machines – but was she? That answer seemed obvious enough. They had told her that it was now or never – that the machines were going to start really fighting, but nothing was happening. Wasn't it supposed to be a war? Wasn't there supposed to be a great struggle before the end? And now the crew… Trim was a bundle of confusion, Cover was their empty leader, and what was Shade?

It was the frustration that had built up in her since the day she had been unplugged. So many questions… and so far, few of them had been answered. She could have forgotten what she was fighting for if it hadn't been for the constant reiteration of the battle's existence. In anyone else, the faith would have been lost. But not Zandra: she was a fighter even in the absence of struggle. Fighting was like breathing: it was just what she did.

But could she lead without reason? Without purpose? Each mission had its _small_ purpose – a contact here, a lead there, but what did it all add up to? Something wasn't right, and it disturbed her. But, as usual, she'd let it slide for now. Zandra was used having things not add up. After all, it was what led her to the real.


	6. Unsure

Protector of Men Ch 82

Upon entering the mess room, Cover had told Zandra what their plans for the day were. It turned out that Columbus had been on the line, and she had informed them that the Oracle wanted to see her. More specifically, she wanted to see her and Shade. Columbus had said that the Oracle was impatient, so they were going in soon. Within the hour they were all briefed, and within two they were in the matrix again.

She hadn't spent long with the woman before she was ushered in to see Neo. Zandra was surprised that the Oracle had suggested it herself. With a smile and an attempted telling glance, Zandra left Shade for Neo's recluse. He smiled back, but didn't catch her innuendo that attempted to convey her mistrust. All the same, he felt exposed without her.

"You're back again," Neo observed, sitting in the same chair that he had rested in before. Zandra wondered if he had moved at all since she left.

"The Oracle wanted me to speak with you," she said, now wondering too if he knew that she was coming at all.

"How have things been going?" he asked, leaning forward.

"We haven't made much progress."

"What have you done?" he pressed, "Tell me what happened."

Zandra paused. What happened?

"We contacted an old professor of mine who knew about my project-"

"Your physics project."

"Did I tell you?"

"No," he answered, "But I could surmise as much."

Zandra watched him warily – he could surmise as much? Her look must have been obvious, because he soon picked up on it and explained himself.

"I still have the connection," he said, "I can still read what's going on." He paused. "But something's happening out there that I can't read."

"I didn't do anything."

"You contacted someone?"

"My old professor. I told him to look at Orion's Belt."

"Why?" Neo realized that drawing information out of Zandra was harder than expected. She was unsure… untrusting. Of course, that was to be expected. Neo was dully saddened again with the recollection that she had a right to distrust him. He was a machine, after all. A rain of code without a source. A true anomaly in the matrix.

"The anomaly I found was located near there. I thought he might remember the presentation if he saw another glitch."

"You found an anomaly that alerted you to the matrix."

"Yes," she answered, sounding more formal than she had intended, "Constants fluctuated every time the matrix glitched."

Neo nodded, clearly deep in thought. Certainly this girl was the key to their success… but perhaps he only thought so because it was so different from his own approach, which had definitely failed. 

"Things are changing in Libertas," the Oracle told him, "You're going to have to play a different role than you expected."

Shade was silent.

"Cover's made you next in command after himself," she continued, "He has as much faith in you as he does in her."

He was still quiet, and she paused for a moment, a smile creeping across her wizened face.

"Your feelings for her are deeper than you realize," she said, staring at him as if she were looking into his soul. "At some point you'll have to act on those feelings, or else they'll be lost completely." Her sentence ended with a casual shrug of the shoulders, as if to say 'it's not my responsibility…'.

Shade was again silent.

"You don't know why you're here," she said, almost a question. Shade shook his head minutely.

"I won't tell you, because you have to figure it out for yourself. If you don't already know, you won't."

She paused.

"But you do."

Shade's eyes darted the room, suddenly uncomfortable. 

"She needs support, Shade. No hero can survive without a sidekick – even you know that. She's gonna need you soon, and you're gonna have to help her.

"Things are gonna get tough, but you have to remember one thing: This is a war. And sometimes, crazy things happen. You gotta know, kid, that everyone is vital to the conclusion."

"Why were you imprisoned?"

"I went there to hide. It wasn't safe for me anymore."

"Then why did you try to escape?"

"Things happened that I didn't like. A lot of things."

They paused again. The Chateau had taught Neo a lot about the life of a program. It was then that he first questioned his humanity. The Merovingian had offered him a job; offered him a place next to his own in his world of trafficking and death. He had done a good enough job downplaying his talents and acting as unsure as possible. The Merovingian had laughed, had called him ungrateful, but it had worked. Persephone had offered herself to him, and every day presented another situation to evade with as much tact as possible. It had repulsed him, but at the same time he accepted it as his culture. The Matrix was his life, and that was all that was left.

"Why was Smith chasing you?"

Neo sighed, and looked to the ground. This answer wasn't going to be easy: everything lay in the memories.

"That's what he was made to do. He'll never stop."

The words sounded foreign in his mouth, as if someone had spoken them for him. But no, it was only he and Zandra in the room. Memories haunted him like spirits, and now it was harder than ever to discern the real from the imaginary. Well, at least the fictitious from imaginary.

But her path seemed clear enough to him. It was already manifesting in the present. She would expose her project, and the walls would fall down. Perhaps they'd even win the battle for Zion, but Neo wouldn't know. Zion had only been an infrequent recluse for him… and for Trinity. Neo sighed again as her memory began to attack.

Zandra stood up. The conversation was over.

"I need a plan, Neo," she said, "And I have to figure that out."

"You have one," he answered. Zandra stood where she was.

"Expose the glitch, and the walls will come down."

Zandra nodded, and left. Finally, something had gotten done.

Shade and the Oracle stopped talking once Zandra came back in. She had expected as much, and soon they were off again and to their phone. The Oracle smiled as they left; a casual 'good luck' was tossed their way before the door was closed.

They didn't say anything on their way to the phone. They were silent and stealthy; reaching the phone quickly, and leaving without a trace. The agents would have no idea that they were even there. 

But Smith was watching. He was always watching. Whether it was one, or three, or ten, he was always watching. Looking for Mr. Anderson. And he wouldn't stop until he was dead. He had come so close before – so close he could hear his voice, feel his clothing – but it was gone again. It was getting harder to evade the agents, too. Now that there were multiple agents, Smith was easily overwhelmed. He was having to eliminate his clones more often, and was having to revert to less obtrusive methods of transportation. It was an embarrassment, but it was necessary. 

Many things were changing, both in and out of the Matrix.

A/N – So much work! Aggh. May be a while before I update again – trip to D.C. to sing at the White House Christmas party (!!!), and so I'll be gone. Anyway! Getting this story beta-read by an AWESEOME beta-reader (Zephyr on the construct – www.constructfic.com), so reprise is getting redone. Check out the construct! It's my guilty pleasure. Don't forget to check out the hardline too – I'm veritas.


	7. Mandate from Below

Protector of Men Ch 83 – holy crap that's a lot of chapters.

Cover looked worried as Zandra pulled herself out of her chair. She looked to Kesia, who also seemed a little nervous.

"What happened?" she asked, now looking to Shade. Shade shrugged, and looked back to Cover. Trim was nowhere to be seen.

"Commander Teal contacted us while you were in," Cover told them, "We have to get back to Zion."

Both waited for more, but nothing came. Cover left for the cockpit, and Kesia soon followed with an apologetic smile before finally disappearing. Shade moved to follow, but Zandra stopped him.

"I don't think we wanna know."

She had the feeling that something had gone wrong. The war was starting. There was no other reason for it; the sentinels had attacked and it wasn't safe anymore. That _had_ to be it. Shade instead followed Zandra down the hallway to their rooms, and sat as she did, next to her on the metal floor. They were quiet for a long time.

"Hey Zandra," Trim said, suddenly appearing from behind a corner of the hallway. He stopped short when he saw Shade, but recovered quickly. "Just wondering what was up."

"Nothing Trim," Zandra replied, "Come join us."

He backed off slowly and shook his head. "That's okay, off to do my work." He smiled weakly and was gone again.

"That was a little strange," Shade murmured, still staring at the place where Trim last was. Zandra nudged him hard.

"He's got some problems," she said. Shade scoffed.

"Well I, for one, would never refuse an offer from a lady such as yourself – to sit – no matter what _problems_ I had."

Zandra laughed half-heartedly. "Well," she said, and let the conversation die.

Five times they had to stop and shut off the engines. There were sentinels manning almost every pipeway and even though they were constantly guided by Zion, the passage was treacherous. Cover was going through tunnels he had never heard of before, and it seemed like every 10 minutes Kesia called out a proximity warning. 

"Captain," she called out, "Fifty thousand, sixty degrees."

Cover nodded and waved her away. He was tired: both physically and mentally. Perhaps a brief stay in Zion would be for the best, yet again.

Trim was with Zandra in the med bay. She was getting a short medical exam by a somewhat nervous Trim. His experience was brief, and her symptoms not only sudden, but unique: migraines that lasted only minutes, hot flashes and hallucinations of lights. 

"It's getting worse again," she said, sitting down hard on the bench, "There it is."

Her arm was outstretched towards the wall, her hand open. She was breathing strong and her eyes were drooping.

"Zandra," Trim said alarmed, "What is it?"

She looked up, now equally as alarmed as he. "I can see it," she said, eyes wide, "They're there."

Cover came onto the PA. "Everyone quiet from now on." Trim put his hands up, trying to calm her, but she was unassailable. 

"What's happening," she asked, "It's there!"

She pointed to the wall again, as if showing trim where to look. He glanced at the wall, but there was nothing. 

"Zandra, we have to be quiet," he said, "The sentinels are around."

"Kesia, put our controls to forty percent," Cover ordered, quietly maneuvering the ship through the pipeways. Kesia did accordingly, and they continued to watch the scene in front of them. No movement so far. Shade waited in the gunners seat in another room – ready for the seemingly inevitable attack. It seemed to be quiet, but they didn't know what was happening in the med bay. All they knew was that Zandra was ill, and Trim was to attend to her. 

Cover was glad that Trim had something to do… with him under the impression he was the medic, Cover didn't have to worry about the fact that Shade had just taken over his previous duties. Trim would be glad he was taking care of Zandra, and that was good for now. As long as she stayed ill, Trim would be in good spirits. 

But something had caught the sentinel's attention. Whether it was the sound of the hovercraft, or the reverberation of the wind in the tunnels, it didn't matter. A warning light suddenly blinked in Libertas as it began its preliminary scan of the darkness ahead.

"They see us," Kesia said, looking to Cover. Her breathing became quick from the sudden change of situation. She watched him for a response, but he continued looking out towards the pipes.

"Power down," he told her, "We can't outrun them."

It seemed like he was devoid of hope, but it was realistic. They couldn't outrun them. But even then they wouldn't be quick enough. More warning lights came to life on Libertas' panel, and sirens now blasted through the ship as Kesia made her way to the fuse panel. One sentinel called to another, and the threat instantly multiplied. Shade soon realized what was happening and set up the controls for a battle, hunching down in his seat, triggers in hand. A quiet humming could be heard outside the ship. Cover stayed in the cockpit while Kesia was powering down below. The sound of warnings echoed through the halls, and everyone was getting ready for the attack. Except for Zandra and Trim, who were still having problems. 

"No," she shouted at the wall, her arm still outstretched. Trim was having to restrain her from getting of the bench. Though she struggled against him, it was not to get out; it was more like she was reaching for something too far to grab hold of. 

"Kesia, finish!" Cover shouted on the PA. The sentinel was coming closer – they'd only have a few moments before impact. Lights blacked out in Libertas; the power grid was slowly coming to a close. Cover had a hand on the EMP, ready to punch when the moment arrived. The humming was now a distant roar, and the sentinel could be seen outside the front windshield. Only seconds to spare. "Now!"

"No!" Zandra shouted again, seemingly delirious, "Stop!"

The sentinel fell only yards in front of the ship, seizing before falling to the ground in an inert heap. Zandra only stared at Trim, her arms hanging limp at her side. Trim looked at her incredulously.

"It's gone," she said, and sat on the bench again. Trim stopped her before she fell over. "Zandra," he called, slowly shaking her. 

She came to gradually, but she was conscious.

The rest of their journey was just as treacherous, but much less eventful. Sentinels still guarded most of their pipeways, but they weren't detected again. Zandra spent the rest of their trip down in the breaker room, manning the power sources in case they had to power down quickly. She often stared at her hands in confusion… wondering… and still feeling that there was something that the others couldn't see. Trim and Shade sat in the gunners' seats, waiting for an opportunity to strike in case they were detected. Kesia and Cover were their drivers. Two days later they would be in Zion – exhausted and ready for a break. In a sense, that's what they would find, but they would discover more than that. There were many questions that had to be answered. 

A/N – whooh. Sorry for the incredibly long wait. Choir has killed me. And then school did. But I got accepted to college, and that rocks majorly! Davidson, here I come!

Yeah, it's the #7 liberal arts school in the country.

Haha. Okay, I have to brag a little. Anyway, christmas break is up soon soon, so I'll be able to write MUCH more. Much more. Sorry again for the long wait! I am thus resurrected!


	8. Disappointing Rendezvous

Protector of Men Ch 8_

"Zandra," Cover called out after they had finally landed in Zion, "Medicals will want to see you."

Zandra sighed and approached the cockpit. "Cover, I'm fine. I have to talk to Emory."

Cover merely stared at her, then nodded. Zandra watched as he turned off the ship power supply while Trim stalked out of the cockpit. Kesia smiled at Zandra, which made her cringe. 

Ever since the sentinel attack, the crew had been fawning over her. None of them knew what was wrong with her, and therefore they were being overly caring around her. It was unnecessary – though they had no idea, Zandra knew that her problem was not physical. They frequently asked her how she was doing and with each following question, she touchier about it. Kesia had sympathized with her and later apologized for her intrusion. It too was unnecessary.

There were two people waiting outside Libertas as they deboarded. Zandra had a feeling they were for her.

"We wanted to make sure that Zandra was alright – see if you needed any assistance," one said, arms crossed. Zandra waved them off and picked up her bags.

"I'm fine," she asserted, "I don't need anything." The two men soon left, and Zandra started to make her way up to her room. Shade grabbed her shoulder tenderly before she got very far.

"Zandra," he said, "At least stay with me. Something could happen again…"

She wanted to dismiss him equally as off-handed, but something held her back. Perhaps staying with him would make the others leave her alone… if she made it sound like she was admitting her weakness, maybe they would accept it and leave her be. She agreed, but told Shade that she had to find Emory before turning in. He nodded, then an unsure smile, and he left. 

Emory wasn't answering his door.

"Emory, open up," she called, banging on the metal. There was still no answer. "It's Zandra, come out!"

He still did not come, and she was angry. There were too many questions and so far, Emory had only worsened her uncertainty. Something was going on that he wasn't telling her about. 

Her banging was suddenly interrupted by a lack of door. Emory peered through a small crack in the now open portal and eyed her untrustingly.

"Emory. We have to talk."

"I'm sorry Zandra," he said, remaining behind his door, "I don't have time… I'm very busy…"

Zandra put a hand on the door and opened it wider. 

"Emory, I need to know. What is going on?"

She could feel him trying to close the door, but she pushed harder and he wasn't able to move it closed again. Eventually he sighed and let her in, eyes downcast in a state of obedience.

"There's a lot you haven't told me," she said, "Isn't there."

Emory did nothing.

"You have to tell me," she said loudly, "I have to know what's going on."

Emory sighed again. 

"There's a lot," he said.

"Good," she answered.

And he proceeded to tell her almost everything. He told her why he decided not to be a Councilor. He told her the secret that even Neo did not know completely, and thus was the reason he quit. He essentially told her that the reason he cut himself off from society was to protect the last dregs of human resistance from the truth:

The machines built Zion.

Pure and simple: they created Zion for complete control. As long as there was a first person, there was someone that could keep the secret. And Emory was the first person to be taken out of the matrix – so the secret was with him.

Which meant not only the machines knew what they were doing but they could destroy Zion at any time. Zandra asked if they could have attacked earlier, but Emory didn't have an answer. The impending attack now seemed irrelevant; the machines could kill them any time – the coming battle was only a front. Right?

"Then what am I supposed to do?" she asked him, palms up. "I have no purpose."

He assured her that she did – she was their leader, and as long as she kept fighting, the rest would continue as well. 

"But the machines have already won!" she exclaimed, "We won't have a chance."

"Not necessarily," Emory countered, now becoming brighter, "It's been 33 years since they created Zion. There are many things we created without their knowledge.

"But that's not for you to worry about," he said, suddenly ushering her out the door, "Your place is in the matrix." Again he was at the door, she outside. "You know everything I know," he told her with a glance to the left and right, "Guard it well."

"But Emory," she called, "There's more!" He stopped the door right before closing, and again his head peeked through a small crack.

"I don't know what's happening to me, but I can feel them," she said, "I can see the sentinels." 

Though she felt embarrassed to say it, she had to. It was another question that needed answering and as far as she knew, it could be another demonstration of the One – or something that had been done to her. Emory opened the door again, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?" he asked, moving closer to her.

"I don't know – I'm not sure – but something happened in Libertas and I saw a sentinel. And then it… well it died. That's supposed to happen?"

Emory shook his head slowly, almost alarmed by her claim.

"I can't say I've heard it before, Zandra, but I also can't say I'm surprised. That may be our claim to the real world – and that's all the truth I have for you."

She waited for more, but there was none. Emory nodded and closed the door with a slow click. Their conversation was over – yet again in less than ten minutes.

But instead of feeling satisfied, she felt empty. The future of Zion wasn't in her hands – it was in the hands of the very creatures – machines – she was attempting to keep it from. Again, they were in control. Even in the real world. 

And what was her job? Only to stay in the Matrix, only to keep unplugging. She was quiet when she came back to Shade's room, and they went to bed exchanging few words.

Kesia was at the door early the next morning. Zandra shoved at Shade to open it for her, but he wouldn't get up. Instead Zandra trudged her way to the door, attempting to part her falling hair without losing her balance.

"Hi Zandra," Kesia greeted, "If you want to see Alias, I'm going to visit her now. Shade can come, too."

Zandra rubbed her eyes and nodded. "Yeah, yeah. We'll be out in a minute."

She closed the door again, and went back to her bed. 

"Shade, get up. We're going to see Alias." He sighed, but got up and pulled on a new pair of pants and a shirt. In a few seconds they were decent enough for a visit, and left the room for the throws of Zion. Kesia, to Zandra and Shade's surprise, didn't ask about them bunking together. 

Alias was in a bar on a floor of Zion Zandra had never been on before. TV screens invaded the room's quiet space and an old movie from the Matrix was playing. Zandra couldn't remember what it was.

She was still in her wheelchair, but she definitely looked different. She seemed healthier – her hair was up, she was wearing 'normal' clothes, but she still acted the same. 

"Still working hard," she said as they approached, a cynical smile creeping across her face. Kesia and Zandra sat at the table next to her, but Shade went off to get something for them to drink.

"How have you been?" Zandra asked, "We've missed you on Libertas." Alias rolled her eyes.

"What was I going to do _there_?" she asked in return, but didn't wait for an answer. "I'm shitting around here letting these 'scientists' try and fix me up so I can go back in."

"You're going through with it?" Kesia asked. It seemed like she was startled at her own question, because she was suddenly silent again. 

"It would have been done earlier," she answered, "Except Trim did a lame-ass job on my surgery and fucked up my nerve work. _Now_ they've gotta figure out how in the hell they can fix that, too."

They were quiet for a moment, but Alias broke the silence again.

"I've been keeping myself busy with Zion," she said, "If there's gonna be a battle we have to be prepared."

"There's going to be a battle in Zion?" Shade asked, bringing three drinks with him. Alias waited to answer while he went back for a fourth.

"I would _assume_ so," she answered stiffly, the condescending tone apparent. "Why else would they have implemented all these precautions?"

Shade nodded thoughtfully; tactfully ignoring her insinuating looks. Zandra looked into her cup and frowned, then asked Shade what it was.

"Oh," he laughed, rolling his eyes, "It's a lighter. It's good."

He laughed again. "I keep forgetting you're the newbie," he commented, "I want to think you've been with us forever – but it's only been like two months."

Zandra smiled, and Kesia laughed politely. Alias, unnoticed, was quiet. 

"Well," she said after a moment, "Thanks so much for the drink, but I'll have to pass." She rolled herself away from the table and mock saluted. "I'm off for a defense review, and then a surgery prep. Have fun, kids."

And Alias left them. 

A/N – hello!

Alocin – Davidson is in North Carolina, about 30 miles from Charlotte. Oh, I was at the White House on Dec 6th, so it was a little while ago. I don't think we were on TV, save for the interviews the local news did before and after…

Zuma – Kesia I found on the internet as like some middle-eastern name or something, but I think it means "From the red earth". Or maybe that's Akamu. I don't know. Akamu is a character in my original fiction on fp.net – fun stuff. I always get confused between like Kesia and this one girl Inara. They're pretty similar. Anyway!


	9. Change of Scenery

Protector of Men Ch 85

"Where to?" Zandra asked as she and Shade departed from the bar. Kesia had already left them to look after Alias, and neither Zandra nor Shade wanted to watch the movie playing. 

"Something to eat?" Shade asked as they walked into an elevator. Zandra agreed, and tried to ignore the obvious stares she was receiving from the people around her.

"It's her," she could hear them say, "It's the One." Luckily, there were only three in the elevator, and the one girl was pretty quiet on the way up.

She stared at Zandra for only a moment, and looked away embarrassed. She was tall, with long brown hair much like Alias'. She too wore Zion's regular clothing, but held in her arms a basket full of disks.

"Are you Zandra?" She finally squeaked. Shade looked to Zandra unbelievingly, but she merely nodded and smiled.

"I guess they made you come in too," she continued, "No exceptions, huh?"

"No…" Shade answered, "You got called in too?"

"Oh no," she answered, excited at the proposition of speaking, "I'm not in the fleet. I'm a construct programmer." She paused, then startled both Shade and Zandra by the sudden thrust of her arm towards Zandra.

"I'm Veritas," she said shakily, "By the way."

Zandra shook her hand reluctantly, but Veritas had a firm grip that was almost relieving.

"Those disks part of the job?" Shade asked.

"Oh," she laughed, "New uploads. Guy in green reversal, new take on the jump…" she thumbed through the stack of plastic as she named them.

Zandra nodded thoughtfully, but again Veritas' sudden energy startled them.

"If you had time," she said loudly, "I had a program I was hoping someone could try out…" – Zandra swiftly tried to figure out a way to get out of it – "But I'd be honored if you'd try it for me."

"Well-"

"It's safe," Veritas asserted, "It's supposed to be a relaxation construct for long-term fleet members – I mean you guys have to be stressed, right? – Well, I mean, I bet you're not," as she gestured towards Zandra, "But I bet stuff happens that's stressful, right?"

Zandra blinked twice from the rush of her speaking. She looked to Shade.

"What time do we have to be back at Libertas?" she asked him, trying to convey her unspoken message.

"Not for a while," he answered, totally missing it. He looked to Veritas. "I'm sure we'd enjoy that," he told her. Zandra looked at him for a second, but didn't linger in her expression. Though she was surprised, she didn't want to hurt Veritas' feelings. It looked like Veritas had enough of a time keeping herself from bouncing off the wall every time she spoke to someone. 

"I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself," Shade told her, "I'm Shade." Veritas shook his hand too, though she looked even more nervous to be touching him. "My stops real soon, so if you wanna just follow me, I'll lead you there."

Zandra and Shade looked at each other, then nodded. Perhaps this day would be interesting after all.

Her core was in a large room in Zion where multiple construct stations littered the floor. She plugged them both in delicately and pushed the little red button that immediately transported them into heaven. Or what they might have described it as.

It was a beach. Sand gritted between their toes, and the salty sea air ruffled their hair. The sand was white; the sea blue; the sky orange. The sun was waning, and a few clouds reflected the sky's varying palate of color. Tall grasses bent in the light wind.

Zandra sighed and sat down; Shade soon followed. Waves lapped up on the shore in front of them.

"Talk about relaxing," she breathed, leaning back on her elbows. Shade laughed quietly. A sailboat floated past in the distance.

"I think I could lie here forever," Shade said, completely laying down. Zandra would have followed, but a phone rang from a few feet off. Shade sat up as she went to find it in the hills of dune grass.

"What do you think?" Veritas asked once Zandra had picked up, "Appropriate?"

"Yeah, yeah" she answered, looking around again, "Very appropriate."

"Well if you can wait just a second, I have one more construct if you have time…"

"But-" Zandra started,

"It won't take long," Veritas assured, and hung up the phone. Zandra went back to Shade with phone in hand but before she could tell him what Veritas had said, everything went white.

"Aw, where'd the beach go?" Shade asked, pulling himself up from the void ground. Zandra's cellphone rang again.

"Veritas-"

"I'm sorry if I'm taking your time, but I think you'll like this."

Zandra was quiet for a moment.

"It's a self-reconstructing and subject-sensitive slate. So you should be able to manipulate the code yourself to create a unique setting."

"Meaning?"

"You should be able to create something by thinking about it."

Shade stood in front of Zandra, watching her. "What is it?" he asked as her brows creased in thought.

"Try it out," Veritas said, "Please?"

Zandra hung up the phone. 

"What?" Shade asked again, moving closer, "What'd she say?"

"I guess the place detects your thoughts… she said it'll create anything you think of."

Shade waited a moment, then closed his eyes. He opened them a moment later, and a look of disappointment crossed his face.

"Aw."

"Didn't work?"

"No."

"I'll call her."

"Wait," Shade said, putting a hand on the phone, "Try."

She was reluctant to – mostly because she had the nagging feeling that Veritas really only wanted them to come to try out this construct… and see what Zandra could really do. Quickly she became worried that this was yet another unconvinced Zionite ready to take her down…

"Zandra," Shade said again, "Just try it. A chair."

She sighed inwardly and put down the phone. _How typical_. Shade continued to nag her, and she finally closed her eyes. "One try," she mimicked before starting to concentrate.

_A chair? Yes, just a chair. A nice, leather chair with curly arms? Ah_, Zandra broke off, _this is pointless._

But in front of her she found Shade, gaping at said chair.

"Try something else," he said, still staring. Zandra waited for a moment reluctantly, but decided to go ahead anyway. As long as she kept it interesting, she wouldn't have to think. 

_A table, now. A long table with a glass top and rounded legs. Cherry wood with black inlay, and a centerpiece in the middle. _

"Zandra, this is amazing," Shade said, bringing her back. She glanced upwards and saw the table stood there too, just next to her chair. The four of them were pockmarks against the whitewash of the construct: a chair, table, Shade, and her. Shade went and touched the furniture, just to make sure it was real.

"Imagine what we could do," he whispered, slowly looking back to her again. Slowly she was becoming more excited at the proposal of this new construct.

"What are you doing?"

Veritas whipped around instantly to see Kesia and Alias staring her down menacingly.

"Just trying out a new construct," she said, inching backwards, "They volunteered to do it!"

"Volunteer my ass," Alias said, pushing Veritas from her station. She scoured the code thoroughly for any sign of a struggle, but couldn't find any. Neither could Kesia, though something was certainly wrong with the construct.

"What is this?" She asked as Veritas inched forward again.

"It's a subject-sensitive slate."

"Bullshit," Alias retorted from behind, "No-one's been able to make one for months."

"Look," Veritas assured her, pointing to the screen in front of them, "It's there."

"What should I do?" She asked him. Ahead of them lay various objects - most obvious of them being a car and a motorcycle.

"Make a road," he answered with a grin, "Let's race."

She walked over to the motorcycle first, knowing it could be fun if done correctly… and she closed her eyes.

The next time she opened them, she was in a cross between Zion's mechanical grace and New York's bustling closeness. A road lay in front of them, suspended by roped high above their artificial ground. Zandra smiled. 

_Let the race begin._

A/N – yeah, this chap is a bit strange, but it's necessary. Ever wonder what could happen if you could manipulate OTHER parts of your mind when jacked in? Like instead of you just taking IN signals, the program could interpret signals from you and take them OUT? Hmmm…

Sorry for the long wait, but yeah. Can't write without my little writing nook, and it was gone for a few days. :(


	10. Excitement

Protector of Men Ch 86

Shade paused before getting into the car. He looked around slowly, taking everything in. 

"You think it's safe?" He asked, gazing to the artificial sky. Zandra looked around too, then slowly nodded.

"It should be," she said equally as slowly. If she could imagine this, couldn't she imagine him not getting hurt? It seemed logical enough, and Zandra wasn't in the mood for thinking. 

"Let's go," she cheered as she pulled herself onto the motorcycle. She looked ahead; a street of brushed steel and seamless guardrails greeted her to the horizon. 

To their right and left were skyscrapers - far enough away but still imposing. Other streets wound through the air – some going up, some down. Some left, some right. But their street went straight ahead. Shade closed the door to his car and started the engine. Zandra turned her motorcycle on, as well. A light in front of them turned green, and they started.

"What did you do?" Kesia asked, now sitting in a small chair she had pulled up for herself. A small crowd had now gathered around Veritas' station, and all were watching Zandra and Shade's progression.

"I didn't do anything," Veritas assured again, "Everything is hers."

"Self-reconstructing…"

"Subject-sensitive slate," Veritas finished. "I just needed someone to test it out."

The race started very normally – or at least as normal as it could have been, due to their surroundings. They were going straight ahead - sometimes Shade in front, sometimes Zandra. But she had made a plan before it had even started, and she knew that the race was just about to get more interesting. 

She veered off to the right just as a road opened up for her, forming just as her wheels touched its virtual pavement. She followed the road up and soon she was riding just above Shade on a road she was creating just fast enough to ride on. Shade looked up and saw her above him, a knowing smile creeping across his face

For now, he was stuck. There was nothing he could manipulate, meaning that Zandra had the immediate upper hand in their race. But he had already decided to let her win, so it wasn't an issue anyway.

She knew where the finish was, and knew she would be coming up on it in a minute or so. The road in front of her veered down again so that it was right above Shade's car and playfully swerved left to right. Below her Shade was keeping his car steady, suddenly hoping that she knew what she was doing.

But again, Zandra had a feeling that he was worried, and therefore felt even more the urge to play around. Soon Shade would be taking a left, but she would go straight ahead. She'd take a detour to the exit and beat him to it, even without her motorcycle. 

He slowed down as his road departed from hers, but kept steadily moving forward. Though he was uncertain, he trusted Zandra enough to keep going. And he wasn't going to let her win by much, he had decided.

She ditched her motorcycle as the bar loomed ahead of her. As her mind moved places so did her simultaneous renovations, and the road ahead of her stopped forming. Her motorcycle skidded off the side as she flew, falling hundreds – maybe thousands of feet before hitting another street below. She grabbed the pole with nimble dexterity and swung around twice before letting herself fly free again. A few feet above and further forward was another bar which she grabbed onto and swung again.

"This isn't safe," Kesia said, the concern obvious in her tone, "She's gonna crash it."

Veritas was quickly pounding keys on her keyboard while Alias kept tabs on vitals. The stability of the system was diminishing slowly – and if she didn't slow down, there would be a serious problem within a matter of minutes.

"Their vitals are fine," Alias growled from behind them. She had previously assured Veritas of her disapproval of the whole debacle, but there was nothing much she could do at that point. With their vitals intact, Alias commenced to sit and wait until something happened.

"Can't you call them?" Kesia asked again.

"No," Veritas repeated, "I can't put a phone in."

"You'd think she'd put in a line, at least…" Alias said darkly.

"It's subject-sensitive!" Veritas said a little loud, "Only _they_ can do it."

Zandra was getting tired of swinging, and the finish line was quick approaching. Instantly a road materialized below her, heading towards the looming finish. As she fell to the ground, a board zoomed up to hover under her, and she landed softly onto the speeding craft. She held out her arms for balance, and got ready for the finale.

Shade was getting nervous in his car. Certainly Zandra was alright – or else the world would disintegrate, right? He hadn't seen her in a few minutes, and his anxiety was building. A lot of things were happening in the construct that had him worried; most of all being the changing skyline. Thankfully the road was constant, but everything else seemed to be changing rapidly. Buildings appeared and vanished; some roads twisted or ended abruptly, leaving Shade to hope that the road he drove on wouldn't lead him to a spiraling death. Ahead he could see what looked like a courtyard, and he felt better. Certainly that would be their finish…

Zandra watched Shade approach from a street below, getting closer to the finish. With a quick spurt of speed she veered more to the right so that she was almost on top of the courtyard. Shade was coming towards her, but he wouldn't be able to see her. She abandoned her board and jumped off the street, the timing perfect.

Shade was perfectly startled when she landed on the hood of his car with a wave. She reveled in his reaction – a mixture of shock, surprise, and excitement. Zandra knew the courtyard was coming up behind her, which meant she only had a few seconds to beat him to the punch. She turned around and jumped off the car as a pole materialized above them. She grabbed onto the pole with its waiting handle and skidded downwards towards the courtyard, leaving Shade gaping in awe. Nimbly she leapt onto the ground and planted a flag into the metal ground while Shade entered the courtyard, coming to a stop. She had won.

"Ho-ly," Shade commented as he pulled himself out of the car. The road behind him disintegrated. Zandra laughed. They were now on a square platform in the sky, surrounded by an amorphous horizon.

"That was fun," Zandra said, catching her breath. "I'd do that every day."

Shade laughed and smiled, then shook his head slowly.

"What?" Zandra asked, but he merely smiled and shook his head again.

"Nothing."

_Tell her!_

"It looks like they stopped," Kesia said. Veritas secretly rolled her eyes and nodded.

"They'll come out when they're ready," she replied. Alias sighed.

"They'd _better_."

They both laughed, and quieted down a moment later. Zandra sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"It's nice having it all back," she said, examining her hair. Shade smiled but said nothing, silently admiring.

"Hm," she continued, "I guess we'll have to get out then."

"Yeah."

Zandra pulled a phone out of her pocket and dialed Veritas.

"That's her!" Kesia said in almost a shriek. Alias rolled herself over to the screens and watched intently.

"Operator?" Veritas asked. Alias could detect a shake in her voice.

"Hi Veritas," Zandra said, "This upload is _amazing_."

"Thanks," she replied, with a glance to Alias, "But I think it's time to get out."

"I agree…" Zandra replied a bit reluctantly, "Take us up, then."

A/N Herm. This chap seemed to be a little different style than the others. Ah, I'll get my beta to figure it out when she gets to it. 

I _would_ put review replies here… but it looks like I have no reviews. Boo-hoo to me. 


	11. Seer

Protector of Men Ch 87

__

It's an empty room.

"Things are going to change," she told him, "It might get dangerous for you."

"That's fine," he answered, "I have all I need."

"How far are you willing to go for this?" she asked, looking into his eyes for any sign of emotion. There was none.

"I'll go as far as I have to. You know me."

It's an empty alley.

"This is it," he whispers, preparing for the end. Now is the time he was made for; this is what his purpose had evolved into. Everything else may have changed, but this stayed the same. The deadly constant.

"Are you ready to go?" His opponent asked, the rage apparent in his visage. 

"Yes."

It's a crowded square.

"I'm sorry," he said, palms up. The man's eyes widened, his gun became steady.

"Sorry?" he repeated, walking closer, "You're never sorry."

"He didn't do anything," she said, surprising herself by the sound of her voice. He stopped walking, but his gun was still trained on the man.

"You stupid whore," he spat, "He ruined my life."

It's an empty street.

"Oh, god," she pleaded, beginning to shake him, "Please, please - not another one."

But still he wouldn't wake. She noticed her hands were stained with her blood, and recoiled for a moment.

"Don't let me fail again," she whispered, shaking harder, "I need you."

It's a swirling mass.

"Punch it!" he commands, the fear evident in his voice. There is an explosion, then everything is quiet. His voice echoes in the deadly stillness.

"And now we wait."

It's a quiet ship.

They sit in dejected silence.

Zandra woke up silently, her breathing even. She was wide awake and staring straight into the back of Shade's head. Luckily, it seemed she hadn't woken him up. But unfortunately, she wasn't going to get any more sleep.

Her dream put their mission back into focus. Though her anxiety was general, it wasn't unfounded. There was still much to do… and it seemed now that there was no time. She had no idea when the Council would repeal the emergency measures, and even then – what would she do? She had to say goodbye to Neo – and to the Oracle if it truly was going to end soon. She had to talk to her professor soon and confirm his plans. She had to implement the virus and expose the truth to everyone…

But even then, would it work? Zion only had 85,000 people and though it seemed like a lot to _them_, Zandra knew it would be no match for the machines. They couldn't unplug more coppertops because the ships were imprisoned in Zion, and it wasn't safe anymore. 

It was a pickle, no doubt about that. But she'd have to do what she could and hope for the best. Everything is chance in war, _right?_

Zandra found herself going out of Shade's apartment and into the hallway. She leaned against the banister and watched the city. Zion, she lamented, wouldn't be this quiet for much longer. She didn't notice someone coming by to join her. 

"Not sleeping?" The Councilor asked as he approached. Zandra looked over to him and shook her head.

"Bad dreams?" he continued. Zandra just stared.

"It's not uncommon for a leader to feel anxiety before the gauntlet," he explained, "Anything in particular?"

Zandra sighed. "I just don't know what to do now that there's no time, and we're…" she trailed off into silence in a belated attempt to avoid offending the Councilor's authority.

"What were your plans before you were called in?"

"Not much." She paused. "We had a virus we were going to send through the Matrix."

The councilor nodded in thought. "Anything else?"  
"I was just going to speak to a contact who knows the source where the code falters."

She figured he had somehow heard about that old project, because he only nodded again. Zandra looked up to the floor where her apartment was – Stephen's apartment - and felt a sudden pang of guilt. Stephen had left everything to her… and instead of honoring him, she was staying at Shade's place on a weak excuse that she was ill. Surely it was obvious to everyone that she was fine.

"Well, that seems like a valid plan enough," the councilor said with a sigh. He turned to her. 

"Everyone is here because it's going to end – very soon."

Zandra nodded.

"And we have a plan of action for the inevitable attack. Emory has joined the Council again, and I think we might stand a chance if it comes to it. I understand that your place isn't here though," he continued, "But in the Matrix.

"If you can still do your mission, you have clearance from me. Teal won't contradict a Councilor. As long as you understand the danger out there, you can go. Sleep well."

She would have said goodbye, but she couldn't remember the Councilor's name. Soon she was alone again. Certainly Cover would agree that they had to go back in, and that meant it was only a matter of time before they'd be back in the Matrix again. She heard the door clink open behind her and Shade suddenly appeared to her left.

"Not sleeping?" He asked as he gazed down into Zion. Zandra laughed quietly at the repetition, and Shade turned to her with concern.

"Nothing," she said, waving his worry away, "Just bad dreams."

"What about?"

Zandra didn't answer, knowing that she didn't really want to know what, or more deadly: _who_, those dreams had been about. Those vignettes were about death, and Zandra knew that their faces were blank for a reason.

"We have clearance to go back in," she said instead, turning to him. Shade looked confused.

"One of the Councilors gave me clearance a few minutes ago."

"Which one?"

Zandra paused again before answering. "I don't know his name."

Shade smiled. "What'd he look like?"

"Kind of grey-ish brown hair, pretty messy. He was wearing green."

"Sounds like Balavan," he answered slowly, "Yeah."

"Well, he said we can go back in for the virus if we have to."

Shade nodded. 

"Should we tell Cover?"

Shade walked back into the apartment, and Zandra followed silently. He looked up to their small clock on the wall and frowned.

"It's four, MMT. We can probably go."

Zandra nodded, and they left the room again.

His quarters were close; within minutes Zandra and Shade stood quietly before his door.

"Are you sure?" Shade asked, his fist hovering inches from the metal portal. Zandra nodded.

It was clear from his look that Cover didn't usually wake up this early. His dreads covered most of his small face and his eyes were burning a tired red.

"What is it?" A woman asked from behind. Suddenly Zandra noticed her – Captain Columbus – in the room with him. She too looked tired. Zandra tried not to stare. 

"Councilor Balavan gave us clearance to go," she said, struggling to keep her eyes on Cover and not let them wander on his obvious ragged disposition… or Columbus.

"For Libertas?"

"We can go when we're ready," Shade said, his voice firm and convincing. 

"Then let's get going," Cover said, "Get the crew."

"Aye," Shade said, getting excited, "Done."

Cover closed the door, and the two of them left for Kesia's room.


	12. Into the Darkness

Protector of Men Ch 88

Kesia walked with them towards Trim's quarters. They had made good time – she had packed her things in less than a minute, and required only another moment to write a note to Alias informing of their departure. They tacked it to the door and left without a glance backwards. None of them fathomed that it might be the last time they saw their rooms again.

Trim was irritable when they greeted him, muttering cynically about how he never got away from the ship, and sporting a bad pun about 'liberty' and The Libertas. Kesia and Zandra were quiet during the ordeal.

"Come on, Trim," Shade said condescendingly, "They didn't clear us for nothing. Let's go."

Zandra winced at the response: Trim said nothing, but glared at him behind his back as if the look could bring him down. There was a long and uncomfortable silence as Trim threw his things into an old bag and shoved himself out the door before the rest of them could turn to leave. Zandra followed him wordlessly towards the ship. 

"This is a big deal," Cover told them as they boarded, "We don't have a lot of time to do what we have to."

The crew all nodded.

"We're going in for the contact, and for the virus – but I don't know if we'll be able to in the end. This is a dangerous mission. Probably the most dangerous you – or _I_ – have ever participated in.

"We're the only ship out there, and there are more sentinels. I don't even know if broadcast depth is clear – but we're going to try." He paused, and looked at each of them. "You have to be _fully committed_."

Each crewmember nodded again in understanding. Cover may not have been the most decisive, the firmest of captains. He may not have been the most experienced, or the cleverest. He may not have even been so much their captain, as their apex. Cover was what held them together. He was the head of the family called Libertas – _Purgatory_. He comforted them, he led them, he agreed and disagreed with them, permitted and forbade for their protection. He made sure they worked together and though lately things were falling apart, he was always working to fix it. He cared for them; he felt for them like a father over his grown children: still protective, but somewhat detached. The crew may not have realized it, but they were a _family_.

Cover sighed. "Let's get going, then."

No one asked for clearance as they left. No one stopped them from boarding, no one questioned their intentions as they started up the ship, and the doors opened without a hitch when they finally departed. Zandra was determined only to look forward; to glance backward meant she wasn't coming home. 

"Zandra," the intercom called, "Come up to the cockpit, please."

"Yes?" she replied as she sauntered through the open doorway.

"Can you and Trim turn off breakers E through K," Cover said, punching buttons in front of him, "Trim'll know what to do."

Zandra nodded and went off to find Trim, who was whittling a piece of plastic in the mess room. He looked up as she entered, but sighed and soon went back to hacking at the figurine again.

"Cover says to shut off breakers E through K," she said, remaining in the doorframe. Trim looked up again and was silent for a moment.

"We should probably get to it then," he said, leading her out of the room and down to the mechanical hall.

Shade was trying to sleep in the bunk that he and Zandra shared. "I didn't get a lot of sleep," he assured the crew, "Just want a rest before we go in."

But the truth was he was petrified. He was afraid of what this mission would bring for them – both in and out of the Matrix. He was embarrassed that he was being such a coward, while Zandra was so _brave_… but at the same time could not completely discount his feelings. 

He felt so silly around her – being so awkward, so unsure, so afraid… but knew that he couldn't help it. He knew he was sharing a room with her – and knew it meant something had changed – but _what_? He had gotten her to stay with him, but was that because she agreed that she had been ill the last time they were in The Libertas? She seemed fine enough, but was there another motive behind it? He dreaded the thought of Stephen. Shade sighed and changed sides, his heart beginning to thump again at the thought of his seemingly imminent demise.

"_No_, Zandra, turn it the _other_ way."

Zandra sighed and changed directions, being careful not to do anything wrong. Trim was being overly condescending during their little 'job', but she was handling it well. It was obvious that Trim was hungry for a position with power – or at least where he could actually do something, and she knew well enough to let him enjoy what little he had. 

"Almost done," he said after a moment, looking over their progress. Nearly everything had been shut down – heaters, water recyclers, purifiers – to insure their stealth through the tunnels. Libertas was already a small ship, but with low power and only five people onboard, it would be hard for a sentinel to detect even with their backup on. 

"Finished," Zandra called from a few feet away. Trim nodded at her work and led her back out to the cockpit, a smirk across his face. 

They could hear Kesia calling out coordinates as they approached. Neither her nor Cover looked up at their presence, but continued working hard to maneuver them through the small passageways into their haven of broadcast depth… if they could find it.

"Tell Shade we're in a minefield," Cover told her quietly as he continued to work, "He's gotta stay quiet for a while."

Zandra nodded and left, squeezing by an immobile Trim in the doorway. She didn't look at him as she left.

She slipped into their quarters silently and eased herself onto their bed. Shade didn't stir as she moved to lay next to him. She stared at his back for a moment, dreading the thought of waking him. It was a blessing to sleep in conditions like these.

"Shade," she caressed, rubbing his shoulder slowly. He didn't turn, but she could feel his muscles tighten at her touch. She moved her hand back and put it in her lap, defeated.

"Cover wants us to stay put," she whispered, detached, "Sentinels."

Shade moved a little; only enough to let her know he understood. Zandra sighed and moved off the bed. She looked back to Shade, but he still would not acknowledge her. Silently she crept back out of the room and sat in the hall dejected. It was dark; the only light in the hall was that from one light at the end of the corridor. Shadows played across the floor and left Zandra's body dark, but her eyes squinted from the direct and piercing light. She crumpled her hair thoughtfully. 

The ship turned on its axis, creaking the metal of the hull and shifting those inside. Zandra knew it was only a matter of time before things got louder again. It wasn't going to be fun, but it was necessary. And she had those she needed most… whether they knew it or not. She traced the lines of corrugated metal on the floor, remembering their touch. It was peaceful now, and she didn't know if she would ever hear silence again. This might be the last time she enjoyed the cool taste of metal.

A/N – sorry for lateness. I'm getting bad about that. Good news? I ranked 2nd in state for choir! I'm happy with that, but I've been a little sick, so writing has taken a backseat to school and laziness. :(

Aqua_phoenix – thanks for all those reviews! I know Colombus was hard to figure, but remember when Cover was talking with the woman on the line…? And yeah, I'm glad Alias is back to normal, too… Veritas, actually, is almost a self-insertion! Haha! That's my handle at www.constructfic.org. Funny stuff, eh?

Wow, I'm on 5 author alert lists. That's a really nice feeling… :) Especially when some of them haven't reviewed (yet? Hmm…) so I know there are more of you out there!! Happy.


	13. A Painful Recollection

Protector of Men Ch 89

"Zandra, Shade, get ready," the intercom said, "We're clear. We can't waste time."

She got up from her place on the floor, rubbing her eyes from the sudden change in light. She knocked on the door behind her and heard Shade rousing from his place in bed. He didn't look at her as he entered the hallway, but all the same she could tell how he felt.

His hair was disheveled on one side; his eyes were alert, but deep and baggy. His mouth drooped in what seemed like a permanent frown. His shoulders slumped, and he shuffled by her on route to the core. He was afraid, and she didn't blame him. If things went well, they would survive… but even she didn't know anymore.

Barely anyone said anything as they prepared to go in. It would be just her and Shade; Kesia had to operate, Cover had to oversee, and Trim had to watch for sentinel activity. Zandra's anxiety crept back – Trim's absence at the core wasn't a good sign. Nonetheless, it may just have been because he had a job to do.

"Try to be quick," Cover said as she reclined into her seat, "We don't know how much time we have."

Zandra nodded and sighed.

"Kesia put a marker on this professor, so we know where he is. She'll get you as close as she can, and then guide you there. Just tell him, and get out."

She looked to Shade, who also nodded weakly.

"We're set," she replied.

"Then let's go."

It was a dark basement. Zandra could barely make out her surroundings; it was a bare concrete floor, a few old tables, and an old phone on the wall. She and Shade soon stepped up a few stairs to the back exit and into the open air.

They were both shocked at the environment they occupied. Ancient oaks were to their left and right; their glittering green leaves making shadows that danced on the ground in front of them. A dirty sanded path led from where they stood to a central walkway, and lush green grass covered the bright ground. Benches spotted the park, and patches of flowers dotted the greenery. Zandra sighed longingly, remembering the beauty of nature. She had left all of this, and it seemed almost that beauty was only a memory. Anguish invaded her previously stoic countenance – this was all going to be _destroyed_ if things went _well_. There would be nothing left except for dirty steel and smog. Beauty would be lost forever. 

Shade's phone rang. He answered it, and moments later hung up again.

"He's in the building over there," he told Zandra, pointing off into the distance, "Kesia said he's in the conference room alone."

Zandra looked around expectantly. 

"Is it safe to go that far?" she asked, keeping an eye out for any people, "Can we call him? Get him to come to us?"

Shade nodded and pulled out his phone again. A few moments later, he handed it back to her. "It's ringing," he told her. Dr. Sherman picked up after the third ring.

"Hello, Dr. Sherman speaking."

Zandra waited a moment to respond - just enough to let him know this wasn't just _any_ person on the line.

"…Hello?" He asked, persistent.

"Hi Dr. Sherman," Zandra said tentatively, almost fearing the prospect of speaking to her old teacher – her old _mentor_ – again. The professor said nothing, but remained on the line.

"Do you know who this is?" she asked, trying to remember the old 'college-girl', 'not-a-care-in-the-world' syntax of speech.

Dr. Sherman waited again.

"…I think so," he finally said, his voice firm and confident.

"Meet us outside. You'll know where I am."

She hung up the phone, realizing that her hands were shaking. Whether it was because of their tense situation, or her brief talk with the person that could break the barred floodgates of her dangerous memories, she didn't want to know. She looked around once more, then gestured for Shade to follow her.

"He's coming out."

It was clear to Shade that both of them were trying to conceal their surprise at seeing each other. The three of them were hidden in an alcove of the building; it wasn't safe from the agents, but it was safe from any passerby's, and that was good enough for the moment. 

"It's been _you_?" Dr. Sherman asked, his eyes unfocused, staring at Zandra. She nodded jerkily. "So it's all true?" She nodded again.

"How much have you seen?" she asked, trying to keep to her schedule. Questions began forming in her mind… _how is William… did they ask about me… do they remember?_

"The glitch was right," he said, glancing upwards, "Something's wrong."

"Feel like something's wrong with the _world_?" Shade asked, but was quiet again.

Dr. Sherman nodded slowly.

"This Matrix thing," he started-

"Tell as many people as you can," Zandra whispered while Shade kept watch, "It's going to change soon. Tell the scientists, and tell the students. Tell _everyone_." 

Dr. Sherman blinked a few times, but nodded again. Their time would soon be running out. Agents would have a lock on them soon… and might have a lock on Dr. Sherman, as well. 

"Watch the glitches, and report them. It's safer that way."

"Can I get out?" the professor asked, his eyes wide in uncertainty. Anguish passed over her again: he wouldn't be able to get out. If he was lucky, he'd become their martyr. She quickly shoved the old memory of Professor Sherman aside.

"Maybe in a while," she said, "But it's not safe now. What you have to do now is convince them of the truth. We'll be sending out a virus on the internet within a day or so. It may screw things up, but they'll know the truth. It's going to get dangerous in a little while."

Dr. Sherman sighed, and they were all quiet for a few moments. But just as Shade was about to tell them to get going, Dr. Sherman spoke up again.

"This is where you've been, all this time," he breathed, looking to the ground, "And they told us you were dead."

Zandra didn't say anything, but dreaded what he might say next. She longed to know more of the inside… her old life… but at the same time shied from the thought of _them_. She was a soldier, and she had a job to do. It was nothing more than a rogue desire.

She never found out what else he had to say. Somewhere far off Zandra could hear someone running – running _towards_ them, and looked to see who it was. Alarms rang in her mind as she recognized the approaching being.

"Get out!" she yelled to Sherman, thrusting herself in front of his body. Shade immediately pulled out his Glock-17, and aimed it at their assailant. Behind them Sherman was running, and was soon at least out of sight. 

"What do you want?" Zandra yelled as she pulled out her weapon as well. It seemed like hours had passed, but it had only been seconds since he had been spotted. She grabbed Shade's arm and jerked him forward and out of the alcove. It was a short run to their exit, but already it was looking perilous.

Smith snarled and said nothing. Instead he continued to approach them, stiffly and purposefully.

"Do you want Neo?" She continued to shout, all the time nudging Shade in the direction of their exit, "I don't know where he is, so don't ask me!"

Smith stopped stomping towards them and frowned.

"Run," Zandra whispered at Shade, who began on his way to the exit. Smith apparently didn't take notice to him, because he pulled out his weapon and trained it on her instead. If there was a time to escape, it was now. Abandoning her pretense she followed Shade to their exit, easily reaching him in seconds. The exit was only a hundred yards away, and they were coming at it quickly. Soon they'd be out again.

Shots rang out from behind them, and it was clear from the noise that the explosions were from more than one gun. Shade faltered a moment, but Zandra pushed him forward.

"Go," she urged him, "I'll stop them." He agreed, and went ahead. Zandra turned around, her Berettas ready.

"Well, _Zandra_," One of the Smiths sneered as he came to a stop, "You're _outnumbered_."

She paused before shouting back a retort, because he was right: there were roughly a dozen of him in the area, and only one of her. She just hoped that Shade was close to the exit.

"I don't know where he is," she told them, keeping her guns on various Smiths, changing targets every few seconds. It was obvious to them that she was worried, and it pleased them. 

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of _that_," one of them answered, coming closer to her. "There's only _one_ way to know for _sure_."

Zandra abandoned her aim and turned to sprint. Surprisingly, her way wasn't blocked. She ran as fast as she could – the building was coming closer, and Shade wasn't in sight – and almost made it to the exit before they made it to her. She struggled for freedom as one of the Smiths grabbed hold of her wrist. She continued holding her gun in his grip, and fired 5 shots into the dust next to them. Soon it was quiet again.

"Have you ever wished you were someone _else_?" he asked with a grin, holding her wrist even tighter. Zandra struggled for freedom as the other Smiths gathered together to watch at a safe distance. For a moment everything moved slowly, but then it sped up again with terrifying intensity. Smith plunged his arm into her stomach, and things began to grow dark as his existence spread into her. Zandra watched with curiosity as the virus spread through her body, locked in a state of semi-consciousness that kept her from acting. This had happened before, hadn't it? But that wasn't an issue now, because it was about to end… Smith smiled as her gaze became distant, and she stopped struggling.

But Shade hadn't gone to the exit. He was hiding next to the door as Zandra struggled to follow him, and now he was watching as she died. _No_, he told himself, _not yet_!

Zandra was jolted back to consciousness instantly, the aborted Smith at her feet. She made a quick glance to Shade – his outstretched arm holding the gun he fired – and sprinted to where he stood. A moment later he too had turned tail and disappeared into the room. It was a whirlwind of action. Zandra could hear the phone already ringing, and knew the Smiths would be upon them in a matter of seconds.

"You _first_!" she yelled into the building as she flung the door closed behind her. Loud pounding outside alerted her to their approach, and the sudden quietness in the room meant that Shade was gone. She bolted down the short stairs and the phone began to ring again. There was a loud explosion, and light poured into the basement. The Smiths had gotten in. Zandra picked up the phone with strong hands, and she was gone.

A/N - yay! I have a whole chapter outline set up, so I know what I want in chaps. So I'm on in the fast-lane, now!

Radrandy – wow, that was the most awesome review I've received in a long time. And thanks for telling me about that spelling error – I can't believe no one else alerted me to that! I must have been delirious.

And I'm really glad that you enjoy more of the part with the theory, the 'what-if' part. The AU's are most interesting to me… and I tend to think more along the theoretical line than story-making line. I'd like to think of this journey as 'exploring a concept', rather than 'making a story'. And you're absolutely right about chapter shortness… I seem to have fallen into the 2.5 page chapter rut, and I've been trying to get out of it. 

Thanks again for your thorough review, and I hope you continue to enjoy it! :)


	14. Many Changes

Protector of Men Ch 90

Zandra stayed with Kesia after the crew had dispersed. It wasn't normal for Smith to be out in the open, and it worried her even more that he was being so obvious about his clones. Something was changing, and that meant that she had to speak with Dr. Sherman again.

"I need to talk to him again," Zandra told her quietly, as Kesia continued to monitor the Matrix for any sign of an agent trace. Kesia nodded silently and gave her the headset. She commenced to punch in the direct link, and soon Zandra was connected.

Dr. Sherman was in the staff room again. He sat stiffly on a desk and faced the door, as if waiting for someone to burst in. His heart raced, and sweat was dripping down his face and back. Alexandra had gotten too deep, and now her life was in danger. _His_ life was in danger. Dr. Sherman looked around expectantly, but he was still alone in the room.

Kesia watched as he jerked to life once his phone rang. Dr. Sherman answered it immediately, as he was holding his phone in his hand.

"Yes?" he barked, foregoing his usual cordiality. 

"It's me," Zandra said into the phone, "You have to be careful."

"Who _was_ that?" 

"Someone you should avoid." She paused. "Have you been approached by anyone?"

"No," he answered, "But I think I've been watched."

"Probably. If you see anyone suspicious, run."

Dr. Sherman scoffed for a moment, and was silent again. "I will."

"Can you make a report on the stars as soon as possible?"

"Tonight, if that works."

"Good. It needs to get done, and it needs to be good. I'm trusting you on this."

"It's an _honor_," he said quietly, and Zandra didn't reply for a few seconds. Kesia suddenly jerked backwards in her chair, and Zandra watched her for a moment.

"Sorry," Kesia whispered, and went back to watching the falling code. "Agent activity… you should probably wrap up."

Zandra nodded.

"Dr. Sherman, we should go. Remember, always run."

"I will," he answered, "Thank you."

_Thank you_, Zandra silently lamented. The line was cut off, and Kesia then made a new call to a different location, just in case the agents had hacked their line.

"How many agents?"

"Two. That's their first appearance since we've come."

"That's what startled you," Zandra said, almost to herself, "Is he safe?"

"Yeah," Kesia answered, distant. "It's just…do you remember that Veritas girl?"

Zandra nodded.

"Remember that construct?"

She nodded again.

"That's what it looked like… for a second there." Kesia sighed loudly, then put down the headset and pushed her chair back. "We should probably get to Cover."

At that moment Trim came in. He walked up to the main deck confidently, and rested his arm on a monitor casually before addressing the both of them.

"So, saved the _world _yet?" he asked, looking at Zandra. He didn't let her answer, and instead continued on what already looked like a tirade.

"Lots of work to do," he continued, "I suppose you want that virus soon? My _one_ job… and to think it might _actually_ be _useful_!" He paused at their lack of reaction. "Well, _ladies_, I'd better be on my way." And he left.

They met Cover in the cockpit. He was alone, and seemed to be thinking, because there was nothing, nor anyone, with him. They spoke together for a few minutes, deciding on their next plan of action. Trim would put the final touches on their virus, and then she and Shade would go back in. Before the virus was to be deployed, they'd visit the Oracle, and consult Neo one last time. It wasn't a concrete plan, but at least it _was_ one. Cover nodded thoughtfully at their propositions, and it was agreed that they'd go in after a short briefing. Kesia left to watch for open hardlines, but Zandra stayed in the cockpit, waiting for the opportune moment to catch Cover.

"Cover?" she asked, approaching him from behind. He was about to leave, but he turned around to face her.

"Yes?"

"I have to talk to you."

"What is it?"

"Well," she started, making her way back to the table, "It's about Trim." They spoke in hushed voices.

"What's wrong with him?"

"It's not a big deal," she said, her eyes wide with honesty, "But I don't know. He's mad about something."

"Did he tell you this?"

"Indirectly…" Her eyes zoomed from right to left, and it was clear to both of them that it was hard to get it out. "I think he's mad because he doesn't get to jack in."

Cover nodded slowly, staring at the ground.

"It's probably not a big deal," she said quieter, "I just thought you should know."

"Thanks," he answered, surprising her with his informality, "I'm glad you told me.

"We've _got_ to be united now. Libertas is small, and we can't rely on just you and Shade to get us through everything. If Trim is left out, we all fall apart."

He shook his head again.

"I hope this doesn't turn out badly."

"I don't think it will," Zandra answered, "I just wanted to let you know in case you'd seen it before."

"No, but all the same – thank you." He nodded slowly and left the mess room.

Ten minutes later they were all in the core of Libertas. The air seemed charged, and Zandra didn't know what to expect from anyone.

"We're going to visit the Oracle," he told them, turning to Trim, "And then you're going to deploy the virus."

Trim looked back at Cover nonplussed. Either he didn't believe what Cover had just said, or else he didn't understand what it meant.

"Shade, you'll accompany Zandra to see Neo. Trim, you'll stay outside with the Oracle. That way you can stay focused on the deployment afterwards. This shouldn't take more than half an hour."

Trim raised his hand meekly and began to speak. "I need a little bit to fix that program," he addressed to Cover, "If I _can_. It shouldn't take me long…"

Cover refused to speak, but condescended a short nod. Trim glanced downwards and shuffled out of the room, getting to work. Zandra locked eyes with Cover and silently thanked him, but he didn't acknowledge her. Instead, she and Shade followed Kesia into their seats and awaited Trim's reappearance. He looked nervous as he approached them again, and Zandra was baffled by his sudden change in attitude. Only minutes before he had been overly condescending, rude; now, he was outright timid. Nonetheless, it was a good change which everyone embraced. Kesia motioned for him to take a seat, and he silently obeyed.

"Are we ready?" Cover asked from behind the mass of computer monitors. Zandra looked to Shade and Trim, and then nodded. Cover returned the gesture and moved over to her seat, finishing her bindings. 

"Try to be fast," he whispered to her. Zandra jerked her head minutely in response. There was the sound of metal, and the needle went in.

The room was familiar, but vaguely so. Much had happened since the last time she had approached the Oracle, and recent events were making the past fuzzy and uncertain.

"Let's go," Shade said, leading them out the door. It was a short walk from their building to the Oracle's usual hideaway, and Zandra made sure that they went as fast as they could. Trim followed the both of them at close to a run, and kept looking from side to side expecting anything to happen. They reached the door without problem, and Zandra knocked urgently.

Seraph opened the door wide and ushered them all inside the white hallway. "Hurry," he said in his thick accent, "It is not safe out here." They all shoved themselves inside the small portal and Seraph closed the door with a loud click. 

A/N – feeling the urge to write original fiction again… fun stuff!

Alocin – I have a feeling you'll like the next chapters… :)

Radrandy – you and your helpful reviews! You say you're no writer… but that was a really great suggestion that I probably should have figured out myself… hahaha…anyway! Yes, more chapters coming. I think I just needed a weekend, and a good kick in the pants to get the plot moving… because they'll just tumble from here, I think.

Yay! Here we go!


	15. Final Goodbyes

Protector Ch 91

It was the familiar white hallway that they were walking through, but there was something again that nagged at her, something that told her this was different. Seraph led them urgently down the hallway and suddenly stopped at a door. He picked out a key from his sleeve and opened the door to the Oracle's apartment, which they all piled into. Seraph locked the door behind them.

"It is not safe here anymore," he repeated after returning the key to his sleeve, "You should not all be here."

"We're not going to," Zandra replied, "This is our last visit."

Seraph nodded and gestured for them to sit down. "The Oracle will be here in a moment. If you need to see Neo, he can be summoned."

Now Zandra nodded. "I need to talk to him first." Seraph gestured for her to get up, and started to lead her into another room in the apartment. Shade moved to get up as well, but Seraph gestured for him to sit back down. Zandra paused, looked to Seraph, and addressed her comrades.

"Trim, Shade, stay in here. I'll try to hurry."

Seraph led her into another room. It was bare, and there was a plain wooden door in the middle of the wall. Seraph knocked three times, and pulled out another key. It again was dark inside, and Zandra could hear the rush of air once the door opened. He gestured for her to go inside, and closed the door after her. 

"Hey kids," the Oracle greeted as she sauntered into the living room. Trim and Shade looked to her expectantly.

"Trim, _honey_, I think Seraph wants you to help him with security," she said, gesturing to the far room where Seraph still stood. "If you can help him out, huh?"

Trim nodded silently and jumped off the couch towards the room. Once he was gone, the Oracle went and sat next to Shade.

"How ya feelin', kiddo?" she asked. Shade didn't say anything for a moment, but then replied with a quiet, "okay, I guess."

"You really have nothing to worry about, kid," she told him, putting a maternal hand on his and wiggling it reassuringly. "Everything will take care of itself, for now."

Shade smiled weakly and moved his hands a little. The Oracle was unconvinced.

"Really, Shade, you've _got_ to understand," she started, "Zandra's not the only one in this battle. She's gonna need help, just like everyone else."

Shade was quiet, following her words.

"Zandra needs to know that you're gonna be there for her. And if you don't firm up and let her know how you feel," she said, knocking him on the shoulder, "She's gonna have a hard time fighting for you."

"What do I have to do?" he finally asked. He kept feeling like he was fighting in the dark, and it was just now beginning to overwhelm him.

"Just tell her you're there for her. You're gonna _have_ to be there for her, or things won't go well."

Shade looked to her questioningly, but she didn't elaborate further. 

"Neo?" Zandra asked in the dark, inching forwards every few seconds. There was an eerie light in the room – not so much _light_, as a feeling that she knew where she was going. She moved a little to the right, and continued walking further into the abyss.

"You're back," a voice whispered from in front of her. Zandra suddenly stopped, and felt hands on her shoulders. It was as if he was sizing her up, but also as if he were a blind man trying to see what a person looked like. Zandra did nothing.

"We're leaving," she told him quietly. He put his hands down, and moved backward, exhaling deeply. "The war is finally coming."

"I know," Neo answered slowly, "I can tell."

"This is the last time we'll be here," she continued, even quieter. The longer she remained in the room, the further his sadness pervaded her being. She lamented the fact that he was alone, and further lamented the fact that when all was said and done, he would probably be worse off than before. The poor man had lost everything, and it was almost as if he was an immortal - stuck in a tragic circle of death that he could not participate in. His loneliness was all but obvious in the black room, and she was going to _leave_ him? But it was inevitable.

"Do you have a plan?" he asked, a bit louder. The tone of his voice had suddenly changed.

"Not particularly. I don't think we'll win anything," she said, voicing something that she had been reluctant even to _think_ about until now. "We're just going to destabilize everything, that's all."

"It might be enough," he said, almost consolingly. Zandra was surprised at the sudden energy in his voice.

"I don't know if we can even do it," she admitted, moving closer to him, "Every time we go in, we have to run back out. Smith… and the agents… they're all over."

Neo paused for a second and breathed in sharply. "_Smith…_" he whispered to himself, and was silent again. Darkness fell over them again.

"It's a dark world," the Oracle told him, "And things don't always go the way you planned. But don't lose hope." Her voice became very quiet, and she repeated again in a whisper, "Don't lose hope."

Shade again looked at her inquiringly, but she would not respond. She stared at the table in front of her in a daze, and he didn't say anything. Trim walked back into the room with Seraph looking bored.

"Seraph says we're clear," Trim told them, planting himself in a chair next to where Shade sat. There was a very uncomfortable silence. A door clicked open, and Seraph jumped up and ran to the doorway, ready for combat. Trim and Shade stared at him in trepidation, but nothing happened. After a moment he retreated to his position next to the Oracle, and it was quiet again. All of them watched as Zandra reappeared in the room, this time with Neo in tow. He looked only at the ground, and shuffled uneasily into the room as if he didn't know where he was. 

"Neo," the Oracle soothed, "I'm glad to see you out again." He looked up for a second, but only to stare down at the ground again.

"I'm going with them," he said. Shade looked to the Oracle in disbelief, but she looked as amazed as he was. The Oracle smacked her lips convulsively and let out a large sigh. 

"Well," she said, "If you're sure."

Neo nodded at the ground. He was making a point not to look at her; if he did, she might just tell him what was going to happen. Neo had a feeling that this meant the end, but he didn't want her to tell him that. It was better to let things go… to let it be unknown. The Oracle got up, with Trim and Shade soon following. Seraph led the way to the door.

"Zandra," the Oracle addressed, reaching out and holding her arm, "There's a lot to do. Stick to your original plans, no matter what happens. The rest will fall in a way… well, that I don't know yet."

Zandra nodded, and Seraph opened the door.

"Thanks, kiddo," she continued, "Good luck, and thanks."

And despite all the Oracle had done, all that she had not done, and all that she had made Zandra question, she was sad to leave her. It didn't seem like she was a computer; more she acted like a mother – and now a mother that was seeing her daughter leave for the last time. Zandra nodded again, but didn't say anything. She couldn't _think_ of anything. So instead, Seraph led them out the door and back into the hallway. The Oracle smiled sadly as the door closed, and Zandra suddenly wished it was not their last time to meet. But things still were moving quickly, and soon Seraph was opening the door back into their ghost town. Zandra looked to Neo before going out.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him. He looked into her eyes, and his were full of fatigue, of thoughtfulness, of certainty. He didn't blink as he answered her.

"I'm going to help you," he answered plainly. Zandra sighed and went through the door. They were back in the Matrix, and half of their plan was done. Once the virus was implemented, everything would be finished. Zandra looked to Trim as he emerged, and he nodded, almost reading her thoughts. It was almost done.

Alocin – aw, don't you think Trim seems happier now that he has a job? Maybe he was just itching for something to do.


	16. Four's a Crowd Fifty's a Problem

Protector of Men Ch 92

[Sent7.3-2264 "Johnson" broadcast]: Exile 6.0N is back.

[Sent7.3-1980 "Jackson" broadcast]: Dispatch?

[Direct connection: Mainf.exe to Sent7.3.exe]: Dispatch _all_ available forces.

[Direct connection aborted]

[Sent7.3-3066 "Thompson" broadcast]: Find hosts now.

[Sent7.3-1981 "Jackson" broadcast]: Exile 6.00S will come.

[Sent7.3-2270 "Johnson" broadcast]: Delete on encounter.

[Sent7.3-3123 "Thompson" broadcast]: Forego formalities.

[Sent7.3-2271 "Johnson" broadcast]: It ends _now_.

It was unnaturally quiet as they made their way to the hardline. Trim was in the process of calling Kesia to make sure he would have access to the internet so that he could make the final hack. Shade had decided to walk next to Trim instead of Zandra, since seemed to be occupied by Neo. Though he tried to forget it, he couldn't help feeling a bit threatened by this new man's presence.

Neo was still getting accustomed to the harsh light of the outside Matrix world. He had hidden so long in the dark that it was even harder to determine what was real for him. Her world – Zandra's world – wasn't real because he couldn't live there; at least, not anymore. That was a dream; a place he knew he could never hope to attain. The Oracle's hideaway wasn't real; it was a shoddy attempt at eliminating the very feelings that were keeping him human. It had almost done the trick, but not completely. He was a soul without a body, and fought for those he longed to be a part of. As they walked down the cobbled street he stared about in wonder, soaking in the light that played across the debilitated buildings, the clouds that rushed through the sky…

"She says we're ready," Trim suddenly said, knocking the rest of them out of their solitude. Zandra approved, and Trim went off at a faster pace towards their line. Shade looked back at her.

"Go," she told him. Obediently, he followed Trim at a canter. Zandra continued pace with Neo, who had suddenly stopped walking.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him. She wanted to call out to Shade, but held back. Neo pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on.

"They're coming."

Back in her apartment, the Oracle and Seraph sat uncomfortably. It was hard to sit while they knew what was going to happen outside.

"Will they all…?"

"I don't know, I just _don't know_." She paused, and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. "After all these years, we're finally sending him off."

"He will go knowing his task is complete," Seraph answered. "That is the most any of us can ask for."

The Oracle nodded jerkily, clearly still irritated. "He'll do anything… I just hope that he does it for _them_, and not for himself."

"Hope is often enough."

The Oracle nodded once and inhaled deeply. 

Kesia was calling Trim; Cover was at her back already beginning to sweat. 

"Trim, get out. Now."

He gripped the phone tightly in his hand and looked to Shade. "We're coming."

"What is it?" Shade asked, fearing the look in Trim's face. They were standing in the foyer of their building, halfway up the stairs to their hack. "What is it?" he repeated.

"We have to go," Trim whispered, shoving the phone back into his pocket and pulling out his gun, "They're coming."

"We have to get Zandra," Shade answered instantly, moving towards the door.

"Go!" Trim shouted in reaction to pounding on the roof. He pushed Shade back down the stairs but instead of leading him out the door, he led him to their hardline. Shade was taken aback by Trim's sudden strength; he would have never guessed that Trim would be able to successfully detain him from getting away… especially getting to _her…_

"No," Shade resisted, "we have to get her!"

But before he could wrestle himself out of Trim's grip, Trim had locked the door and shot off the bolt. He dropped the gun almost in horror and kicked it to the side of the room in a frenzy.

"It's too late," he whispered in fright, trembling. They could hear agents walking upstairs. The phone rang, and Trim picked it up immediately, his face white with fear.

Shade stood astonished in front of the empty table. He shakily put the phone back on its resting plate and waited for it to ring again. He would have gone out to find Zandra but at that moment, something more pressing caught his attention. 

A fist came through the wall to his right, leaving a hole almost a foot in diameter. In an instant the hand had grabbed for a gun and was blindly emptying its cartridge into the room. Shade covered his arms over his face, having no time to react. The phone began to ring.

He screamed out in pain as the bullet hit his wrist, but was only momentarily fazed. The phone was still ringing, and as the agent broke down the door, he answered it. In retribution, the agent destroyed the hardline. There was still time for the Exiles… and the anomaly.

Zandra had two guns on her and had already given up one of them for Neo. He stood in the street much like a cowboy: unmoving, no display of emotion, and a micro-Uzi at his side. There he stood waiting for the agents to approach, with Zandra nervous at his side.

They had not long to wait. Gunshots were soon fired, Neo's arm instantly sweeping backward and shoving Zandra to the side, away from the danger. The look he then received was enough to back off momentarily, though the urge to assist was almost overwhelming. They turned to the source of the noise, but more shots were heard from another direction. Neo spun to look while Zandra remained standing how she was, her gun aimed at the air in front of her. 

Neo was confused at the agents' actions. Never in his experience (though he reminded himself haughtily that his experience was more than somewhat outdated,) had he known the agents to hesitate before attacking, and certainly they would abandon their weapons with an opponent such as _himself_? Of course, there was Zandra – but hadn't she shown her potential when she _rescued_ him? Neo attempted to wipe his mind clear in preparation for the seemingly inevitable battle.

Kesia bit her nails in fear as she watched Zandra and Neo. Trim stood behind her, still shaking, with Shade. Shade was furious, but was more worried for Zandra's wellbeing to pummel Trim at the moment. He too shook – but out of fear for _her_.

"How many are there?" he asked quietly, his voice breaking at the end of his question. Kesia began to rock slowly in her seat. 

"Too many," she whispered, "Too many…". Her voice became unnaturally loud, and she answered quickly. "Twenty-fi-… twenty-six. Damn it." 

Cover appeared behind them, his face blank.

"Trim," he said commandingly, "Go watch the cockpit."

They came in groups of two and three; on top of buildings, out of doors, and off from the horizon down the street. Zandra had her gun trained on the closest, but was soon becoming aware that there was no way that she could win this fight. 

Four was a crowd; fifty was a problem.

"Neo," she whispered urgently, "What can we do?" 

He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, but at that moment, the agents began to fire again. Bullets rushed in the hundreds towards the two; a tidal wave of deadly metal heading for the small island of pacifism they occupied. It took only a moment, but Zandra watched it like a movie: slowly, but unable to do anything to stop it. This time, she couldn't defeat it.

She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation, and everything became a whirlwind of black.

A/N – next chap is Jaw-some. Hah. But splitting up writing time between this and my original story is hard… but this is first priority! Heh…

Steelsings – Don't worry, I knew it was you… I noticed all your old reviews changed to that name, so no prob. Oh, and _my_ way of dealing with a boy-dearth is _writing_ them into stories.. haha! No… its just all the guys at my school are eunuchs. Again, haha. Aw! It's really *touching* that you like this so much, :)

Alocin – okay, the NEXT chap you will love. That's all I'll say.


	17. A Hero's Fall

Protector of Men Ch 93

When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in the street anymore, but on the ground… somewhere else. She looked up to Neo who looked back at her with concern. He helped her up with a strong arm, and she got a look at where she was.

They were on the top of a building; it looked a bit like a neoclassical façade because of its intricate carvings. Around them were many other buildings – many of them too had marbled facades and intricate carvings. They sun was beginning to set, and their shadows were long.

"What happened?" she asked, looking around. It was strangely quiet here. She looked to Neo and saw that he had taken his glasses off.

"I took us away," he answered slowly, sighing deep before continuing. "They'll come again, though."

She nodded knowingly, and they walked over to the edge of the building.

Smith had endured enough. He had waited over thirty years for this opportunity, and he wasn't going to let it slip through his fingers… not this time. Mr. Anderson _would not_ prevail.

He wasn't _filled_ with hate; he _was_ hate. And as he landed on the top of that building it took every ounce of restraint he had to wait just a few moments – until the perfect moment. Mr. Anderson was outnumbered, and it would only be a matter of time before it was all over. Soon he could rest in peace. But he hadn't counted on Neo being so perceptive.

"Get down!" he shouted to Zandra as he pulled her over to the edge. He felt Smith's hatred and knew that this time, escaping was key. He leapt off with agility, and before she followed, she saw Smith rise in anger at his dismissal. Then she too leapt off the building, formulating a plan as she fell. She grabbed onto an erect flagpole and swung, attempting to slow down her momentum. It bent with her weight, but held. After one round she dropped further down and grabbed onto a marbled ledge, stopping herself once again. She banged painfully into the rock surface, but held on. With twenty feet to go, she let go once again and dropped to the dusty street with a thud. 

Neo held his hand out towards her, gesturing for her to follow. "Hurry," he said, "We have to run."

She didn't hesitate and followed Neo down the empty street, fleeing from their pursuer. But they hadn't run more than ten seconds before Smith dropped in front of them again. He sneered menacingly and went for the Exile.

"Get out of the way!" Neo shouted to her as he ran towards Smith, fists ready. She stumbled backwards and landed against a wall, her gun ready – though they were moving too fast for her weapon to be effective. She sat unmoving, watching them.

Neo punched him in the stomach and Smith flew backwards, landing on the ground in a heap of rubble. Leaving Zandra, he leapt to the air and took to the sky. Smith sneered at her hatefully and followed him. Another Smith emerged from the building across from her; he too went after Neo. Zandra would have followed, but at that moment Neo came to the ground again, rolling haphazardly to a stop and creating a flurry of dust that soon fell again. She ran to him, but he held out a hand to stop her.

"No," he told her firmly, "This is _my_ battle."

The Smiths descended on him like a pack of hyenas, a frenzy of movement and rabid violence that left Zandra wishing she could run for a hardline. Neo fought bravely, but even Zandra could see that he was outnumbered. One of the Smiths kicked him and Neo sailed through the air, hitting a building at the second floor. He fell into the alleyway in a heap, and more Smiths came. Zandra followed frantically, ready to attack if needed. She wanted to shoot the Smiths, but dreaded to draw attention to herself. She may have considered it selfish, but it saved her life.

Neo was still lying on the ground, and blood came from his mouth – yet he stood up again with resolution and offered more to his assailants. Three more Smiths dropped from the roof above and joined the fight. She watched as he fell again, watched as the Smiths descended for the kill…

"_Neo!_" Zandra finally shouted, unable to help herself. She ran towards him, but suddenly found herself unable to move. She shuddered convulsively at the voice she then heard.

"Oh, Miss _Zandra_," the Smith cooed, "That's not fair, really. He said it himself – this is _his _battle. Let's be _nice_, shall we?" he paused, and moved closer to her face. "I _presume_ it's short for _Alexandra_, Miss?"

She struggled violently at his words, but couldn't move; he laughed at her response.

"Ah, _yes_ - well I _don't _want you to miss the _show_; it should be appearing _very soon_."

This was it. It was over; this would be the end. Neo understood this as the Smiths pummeled him; it was forty to one, and _this_ time there was no way out. But there was also a sense of resignation in hope's refusal: it had been too long, and he needed to go. There was no sense prolonging what _should_ have happened years ago, and he had already decided that this would have to be the way. Finally some of the Smiths realized his reluctance and stopped fighting. They stood menacingly only feet away, but did nothing.

"Mister _Anderson_," One of the Smiths shouted from behind, soon emerging from the crowd, "It _looks_ like you're _outnumbered_."

Neo said nothing, and ignored Zandra's muffled shouts from his left.

"I'm _surprised_, _Mister Anderson_," the Smith continued, "That you've… _given up_. But it seems a _natural_ thing for you to do, _considering_ the _circumstances_…"

Smith came uncomfortable close to him then; Neo could feel his breath on his forehead and could sense his almost electric energy only inches away.

"Nothing to _fight_ for, anymore, _right – Mister Anderson_? Lost _everything_ you _had_, and now there's _nothing left_? I'd _say_ I feel _bad_ for you… but I _find_ I somewhat _lack_ those things you call _'emotions'_!" He stopped, lowered his almost hysterical voice, and frowned.

"But I'd also _hate_ to have you go _freely_, _Mister Anderson_. You _see,_ I've been _waiting_ for this for _so long_-" he punched Neo in the chest, who reeled backwards sputtering, "That I'd _hate_ to _work_ so _hard_ to have you-" he punched again, and Neo fell over, "_Just give up_!"

"Get _up, Mister Anderson_!" Smith shouted. Neo agreed, and slowly he got to his feet again. He wiped his mouth off and glanced at his hand; it was smeared with blood. Zandra still could not move, but continued to struggle feverishly. "_Neo_," she shouted, pleaded, "_Just run_!"

"I'm not going to fight you," Neo finally said, his voice strangely clear. Smith jumped back as if surprised, but quickly recovered.

"This is it," Neo whispered to himself, preparing for the end. He had said the magic word, and all would be clear now – to all of them. Now was the time he was _made_ for; _this_ is what his purpose had evolved into. Everything else may have changed, but this stayed the same. This was the deadly constant.

"Are you ready to go?" Smith asked, the rage apparent in his visage. The Smiths were all restless, and many of them were smiling. They knew what was about to happen.

"Yes," Neo answered, and it was soon over.

Zandra was screaming as it happened, but no one there took notice. Neo accepted his baptism freely, finally smiling as his existence slowly diminished to nothing. Zandra was in hysterics, but the Smith still held her. Neo was gone; there was only Smith. _Neo was gone_. Everything seemed to be moving in leaps and bounds; one moment excruciatingly slow while the next was faster than she could perceive. Finally she was able to wrestle her way out of the Smith's grip and stumbled forwards into the empty street. She looked around her and it seemed like the Smiths were as confused as she was.

They were laughing for a moment, but all simultaneously stopped. Something wasn't right; there was _something missing_. Each of the Smiths looked around expectantly, looking for an agent, the Merovingian… but there was nothing. And that was it: _nothing_. 

They all started fading at the same time. It was if they had copied onto themselves; the same thing that they had done to Zandra twice before was now happening to them. The Smiths looked around in confusion, but there was no one to help them. They began to fall simultaneously. Zandra shaded her eyes at the great flash, felt the surge of energy pass around her and looked at the scene. There were over fifty bodies on the ground, and they were all dead.

The agents soon appeared once they detected something wrong. 

[Direct connection: Mainf.exe to Sent7.3.exe]: Exile 6.0N has been deleted.

[Direct connection: Mainf.exe to Sent7.3.exe]: Exile 6.00S have been deleted.

[Direct connection aborted]

The news created a frenzy among the agents; _could it be true?_ Could there only be _one target left_? Certainly she would be vulnerable. They approached her without hesitation, but she knew the danger. She didn't want to end up like Neo…and like Kemp and Stephen. _Dead_.

_Fly_, she thought to herself, leaping into the air. It may not have worked for Neo, but it was her best chance.

The mission was a failure - an utter failure. The virus hadn't been deployed, and Neo was dead. Smith might have been gone, but that was only one insurmountable obstacle that had been deleted. There were still many more – and now their greatest ally had already been defeated. He was at peace, but he was still alone.

A/N – going faster… poignant? Or at least did it make you feel a *little* sad? Just curious…

Ves the maniac – another amazing review from a first-timer! As usual, I'm always really *really* happy to hear that people have read sooo much, and like it – but you've actually gone beyond that… 

You're right about the second section. My plan for that part was a little fuzzy for a while, and that really reflected in the muddled plot, etc. I'm hoping to go over that a LOT when I do a huge revision when I'm done. 

And yes, Zandra doesn't show a lot of One-qualities… but I think that a) I could have done that better, but also b) the anomaly has shown itself so early in the timeline of matrix v. 7.0 that she really doesn't have anyone to help her realize that potential… as the Oracle is a little occupied, as is Neo. 

Oh, Emory means knowledge, I think… I picked it for some reason… Let's see – Veritas and Alias, you say? Hmmm… you'll have to see about those ones…


	18. Flotsam of War

Protector of Men Ch 94

Kesia had interesting news to tell Zandra, despite the bad news they had all just received. Trim was still in the cockpit, but Shade, Cover, and Kesia were all on the main deck. Shade looked pale, and stood very close to her. She had an inkling that he felt protective of her considering the recent events, but didn't foster the feeling long.

Kesia urged her to watch the coding of the Matrix. Zandra watched it with half-hearted interest, hoping that Kesia would be quick. Perhaps she might get a moment to mill everything over before going back in for the virus… and what was Trim doing?

"It's become less stable the past few days," Kesia started, talking to the screens, "But I can still distinguish a glitch when I see one. See _that_?" She asked, pointing to one of the left screens energetically, "That's a glitch."

"Glitches always happen," Zandra said with an irritated sigh. _Get to the point_, she thought.

"Remember that _Veritas_ girl?" She asked, turning to Zandra. Zandra nodded, still irritated.

"She didn't _make_ a subject-sensitive self-reconstructing construct," she said, gesturing towards the screens again, "She made a shabby attempt at copying _this_."

Zandra stared at the screens and said nothing. Neo's last moments were seared into her mind, and every few seconds his dramatic downfall would replay with intensity.

"Every time you do something, it reconstructs," Kesia explained with strangely bright eyes, "Of course, it's more advanced – and probably _harder_ – but all she did was copy what she observed."

"So she didn't really _create_ an original construct?" Trim asked from a corner of the room. Zandra looked to him, but he wouldn't return her gaze.

"Get back in the cockpit, Trim," Cover commanded. Trim scowled, but followed orders. 

"Basically he's right," Kesia said quietly once Trim had left, "But just think about it… If it's _subject sensitive_…"

"A lot of help _that_ could have been," Zandra commented even quieter. They were all quiet for a minute or so afterwards. They understood what it meant to lose one of the crew – even if Neo had only been their 'informant'. He was one more loss that they already could not handle. 

"Well, you _are_ going to have to go back in…" Kesia started timidly, making a point to look at the ground. Zandra's heart started at the suggestion.

"Eventually," Zandra shot back automatically. Shade gave her a queer look, but she wasn't paying attention.

"But when you do," Kesia started again, more timid than before, "It might be safer."

Again silence diffused through them all, and the room suddenly felt very stuffy. Cover's words seemed to blast through the core as if he were on the loudspeaker.

"We'll get Trim to fix that virus, and then you're going back in," he told them, looking at Zandra for a response. She looked down and said nothing. Soon Cover left.

He didn't like the buzzing sound that he was hearing as he approached the cockpit. He knew what those sounds meant; but refused to believe it before he could see it. 

Trim was sitting in the pilot's seat with his feet up on the control panel, staring out into the tunnels in a daze. He didn't notice Cover, and it seemed like he hadn't noticed the warnings that were so obviously going off.

"What the _hell_," Cover started, assessing the warnings. He roughly shoved Trim's feet off the control panels and scoured the maps. "Goddamnit, Trim! Turn everything _off_!"

There were sentinels – and though they hadn't seen the Libertas yet, they were already at risk of being detected. Six of them rested just four hundred yards away and they weren't moving. It was if they were waiting.

"Trim," Cover hissed, continuing to shut off various programs in his one-manned attempt to shut down the Libertas successfully, "Get Kesia offline!"  
Slowly Trim came out of his daze and got on the loudspeaker. "Kesia, turn everything off," he said slowly, "We're shutting down."

Cover looked at him menacingly and turned off the lights. "You're not doing this _again_," he whispered, turning down the last power source. The only thing left was their direct line; the most crucial element of the ship to keep intact. One of the sentinels started moving, and Cover flipped open the cover on the EMP. The sentinel turned its red eyes onto the Libertas, and with it even Trim's heart began to pound. One of its octopus-like arms stretched out and unfurled its scanner, beginning to look for them…

"_Done_," Kesia breathed as she burst into the room. Cover wasted no time, and turned off the master power supply to the ship. Now all they had to do was wait in the dark, and hope.

The sentinel scanned, moving a few yards closer as it did. Cover's hand hovered above the EMP's switch, ready to punch if the moment arrived. Its eyes roved the area, but found nothing. Slowly it backed off, leading the rest of its group back and away from them. They were still silent in Libertas.

An hour later they were setting up the ship back again for their final jack. Cover had moved them almost a mile away from their original spot just in case the sentinels decided to go back and check once more. They all knew what a mistake it would be to jack in when there were sentinels about. There was no room for mistake anymore. Cover had assembled them all in the cockpit, just for good measure.

"We're going back in," he said slowly, as if it might be a shock to any of them. "This has to end now."

"Can I have a little bit to fix that virus?" Trim asked, "I think there's one more thing that needs adjustment…"

"No," Cover exclaimed loudly, "You've been given too much already. You said it was done before, so it's done. We don't have time to fool around anymore."

Trim sighed, but said nothing. He seemed resolute, and Zandra guessed that he had been given a 'talking-to' when the rest of them had been told to stay in the mess-room. Trim's eyes were dark, and he seemed tired. They all seemed tired. It seemed like Cover recognized his own agitated harshness, because he then adopted a different tone with Trim.

"Trim, we all need you to come through with this," he said, almost soothingly. Trim continued to look at the ground. "This might be what saves us, so you need to know what we need to do." Trim said nothing, but made a weak attempt at a smile and nodded. Cover continued his orders.

"Shade, I need you to stay out here this time. You have to watch for sentinel activity." Shade nodded blankly. It was obvious he didn't understand Cover's motivations… but then again, none of them knew.

"Zandra – you, I, and Trim are going in to deploy that… _virus_… and then we're getting out. This has to be quick, and I want to make sure it goes right. I think _I_ can help with this one."

Zandra nodded and looked to Trim. He seemed to be growing pink at the ears, but again said nothing. Zandra figured that Cover had finally broken his spirit. Cover soon led Kesia, Zandra, and Trim out of the cockpit, making sure that Shade stayed to watch the maps. He kept eye contact with Zandra as she walked away, both knowing that this was the silence before the storm, and perhaps the last time it would be so deadly silent without casualty. He stood in the doorway of the cockpit with a stoic countenance, but Zandra knew that there was turmoil in each of them. A flicker of uncertainty entered Zandra's mind… and snippets of a past conversation replayed…

__

"Shade would have been better stuck here than me. I've been here longer than he has."

"No… you would know more about the ship than him."

"That's true…He's never been really trained for the ship maintenance."

But Shade had disappeared from her line of vision before she could think about it further. Soon she had been swept into the main deck and into a chair along with Cover and Trim. Trim handed Kesia the vector with nervous hands and retreated back into the chair.

"Cover," Kesia finally said with a sigh, "It isn't stable in there. If things go haywire, it could crash."

Cover simply nodded. "This has to be done," he said with an off-handed shrug, "I expected it to be somewhat off… because of what's happened…"

Kesia nodded, cutting him short (and doing him a favor). She precariously got out of her chair and inserted the needles in all of them, smiling graciously once she got to Zandra. 

"Good luck," she mouthed before hitting execute. Then everything went white.

Alocin – well, I think Smith won because Neo was tired of fighting. So I guess you can say you won… :)

Vez – ahh, thanks. Neo's hypothetical OOC-ness was really giving me anxiety, but I figured that it would make sense. And see, Veritas _did_ have a little more of a debut, and I guess she kind of did make it up…

Kal Torak – three days? Oh, my gosh that's fast.

Disclaimer: choirgrlalex is not responsible for any injuries or lack of other things done in regards to reading her excruciatingly long matrix fanfic in a very short time. All said damages are the responsibility of the reader. 

Phew, that makes me feel better :) I'm glad you liked it – and I'm glad, actually, that you just started recently! I always like new fans!

Oh my gosh… I had the worst dream I've had in a LONG time, but it had an amazing storyline. I think I'm going to turn it into an original story, and I'll give you the link once I get it up. It involves a dad in the CIA, and a kid who unknowingly works for them (I know it sounds like Alias but if you knew my dad, you'd understand… he has a mysterious job) but it was really sad. :(


	19. Vector

Protector of Men Ch 95

Zandra opened her eyes to another dark room. It was different than before; Kesia had moved their deployment area to a place more secluded because the previous hardline had been compromised near the Oracle's hideaway. Kesia had looked hard to find a place without anyone around, and with a hardline. Guaranteed, it would be dark, and it would be old. This room had the same general look as their previous though; stained walls, a creaky wooden floor, one door, and no windows. There was one hanging lamp above their heads, and one small table on which their supplies lay. Next to the hardline rested a laptop computer, and next to that lay Trim's viral disk.

"Zandra, guard the door," Cover said quietly, checking his weapon. Zandra pulled out her two small Skorpions and leaned against the wall, getting ready for a long wait. Trim sat at the computer and booted up, his leg bouncing from an overabundance of nervous energy. Cover rested on the chair behind, watching him.

"Trim," Cover started, "Remember we don't have a lot of time. Just get it done, and go."

Trim nodded and entered DOS.

"I'm _serious_, Trim," he continued, "Do this right. We can't afford to have you screw things up."

"Alright, alright," Trim answered meekly, typing more.

[Password:V3r51oN70]

[Access Granted]

[Connection IP:XXX.XXX.X.XXX to network.exe established]

Cover said nothing more, and sighed in agitation. Zandra watched him with surprise; he had never been so harsh to a crewmember before… and _Trim_ was the one doing the work. Trim picked up the disk for a moment, paused thoughtfully, then put it back down again.

"Is it ready yet?" Cover asked impatiently, leaning forward into the screen. Zandra's phone rang.

"Not yet," Trim replied in a whisper, typing in more information on the keyboard.

"Agents are targeting the building," Kesia said. Zandra immediately got up from her resting position.

"How many?"

"Five."

"How close?"  
"A little over a mile off," Kesia said, "They should be there in a few minutes, tops."

"Cover," Zandra started, moving away from the door, "They're coming."

"Should we leave?"

"We have a minute."

"Alright. Trim, back this down, we're gonna find another hardline." He patted Trim's shoulder warningly.

"I'm almost _done_," Trim answered loudly, "Okay?" He paused for a moment, recollecting himself, and began typing furiously.

[Direct connection IP: 284.666.4.086 to mainf.exe]

[Password: protectorofmen]

[Access denied]

[Direct connection locked]

Trim closed the program after finishing and picked up the disk, placing it next to their hardline.

"Next time?" he asked, looking to Cover and gesturing to the disk. Cover nodded condescendingly and motioned for Zandra to call Kesia.

"Kesia," Zandra said, "The disk's ready to be downloaded again." 

The phone rang and the disk was soon gone; Cover directed Zandra to stay on the line with Kesia until both he and Trim were safe in the Libertas again. They waited in silence for the phone to ring and take them back to the comfort of the Libertas.

But the phone went dead before their hardline rang. Zandra put down the phone and readied her guns on the door, preparing for an attack.

"What happened?" Cover asked. He too pulled out his gun. Trim turned in his chair and looked to Zandra, his eyes suddenly wide with fear again.

"The phone's dead," she answered, suddenly moving from the door again, "I think they're here."

Cover picked up the hardline, but it too was dead.

"We have to get out," he said, cocking his weapon and gesturing for Trim to get up. Trim shuffled around in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out his own gun, a small Beretta. 

"Let's go," Zandra resolved, and opened the door. They hurried out of the building and into the road outside. It was deserted.

A/N – things are happening… things are happening… I know the chap's short, but things are happening.

Alocin – seriously! But it looks like shade might be getting the right idea… even if Cover has thwarted his plans for now.

Vez – aw, everyone suspects poor trim! Okay, so Veritas basically copied the matrix (at least, a small part of it – al of it's much too much to copy!) and in the process, made something incredible. It's just easier for Zandra to remodel the construct because it's made by people – though the foundations are the same. Does that make sense? I'm not good at explaining things, I've decided… haha.

Yes, I've played ETM extensively. And yeah, interesting thing about those Smiths… but they always scared me, so I always put on the faster cheats, haha. I'm such a pansy when it comes to video games.


	20. A Psychosomatic Abundance

Protector of Men Ch 96

****

**WARNING!!** 

This chapter has a lot of language. Please, if you find it offensive, don't read it. There are approximately 17 expletives in this, so be warned!

"They're _here_," she said quietly, observing their surroundings. There was no noise; no shadow in the distance that would alert her to their presence – but she knew they were there. The wind blew through the alleys, and trash scuttled by on the ground. The desolation was oppressive, but their imminent threat was more so. Cover pulled out his own phone and dialed for Kesia. Surprisingly, it worked.

"They've cut all our lines in six miles," she said, "I'll try and hook up one of our old ones, but it'll take a minute."

"In the meantime?"

Kesia paused; Cover could hear her madly typing in the background. "There's a garage almost a mile North. You've got five now; if you run, you can make it."

"Let's go," Cover announced, putting his phone away again, "Hurry." It was still quiet, and there was no sign of the agents. Zandra nodded and gestured for Trim to follow as they began to run.

But Trim didn't move; instead, he whistled. The called echoed in the street with intensity. Trim made a point not to look at them; instead, he looked to the sky.

"Trim," Zandra exclaimed, "What are you _doing_?"

He said nothing again, but a corrupt grin spread across his face as he turned to look at her. She would have punched him but at that moment, all of their attention was diverted to a more pressing event.

The agents approached in groups of two, three and four – from the tops of buildings, out of doors, and out from the black alleyways. It seemed that there were almost a hundred of them; they came from every angle and stopped at a distance, forming a large circle around the trio. Trim parted from them and walked a few steps away, to where the agents waited. It was clear what he had just done.

"Shit," Cover whispered, turning in a circle to fully assess their situation. They were surrounded – and though the agents were merely standing, the rebels were certain that they planned much more. Zandra looked to him, and he nodded. It seemed there was no way for them to get out, so for the moment, they would stay.

"Aren't you gonna _run_?" Trim asked mockingly, his tone icy and uncaring. The agents simultaneously pulled out guns and aimed for Zandra and Cover, who looked nervously about them.

"_Nothing_?" Trim continued, much louder. Cover clenched his jaw, but continued his silence. Trim was trying to bait them, but even Cover could see it.

Zandra's head was spinning; Trim _double-cross_ them? After all of this… all of the _fighting_… everything they had gone through together – and _lost_… _he_ was to be the source of their ultimate downfall? They were so _close_… and now so terribly, _terribly_ far away. There had to be some way to get out of this, to convince Trim…

"Oh, Shade," Kesia cried, staring at the screens with dismay. He clambered into the core within seconds without a thought to his abandoned post. If a sentinel came, they wouldn't know until it was too late – but he didn't care. He had been waiting with trepidation for a call like this, and he knew it couldn't mean well. His eyes roved the screens, searching for a clue. 

"Trim…" Kesia started, looking to him with teary eyes, "He's gone _machine_…"

_No_, Shade screamed silently, cursing the fact that he had let Cover go in instead of himself. Perhaps if he had been more adamant – if he had _forced_ Cover to let him look after her – things would have gone differently… But now all they could do was watch and wait. Their hearts raced as fast as Zandra's, and they were equally as fearful. 

"We need to help them," he said quietly, his breathing already labored.

"What can we do?" Kesia asked, still staring at the screens.

"Unplug him," Shade said forcefully, moving over to Trim's chair. Shade stared down at his pallid face with revulsion; the desire to kill welled up in him intensely. Kesia jumped out of her chair.

"No," she exclaimed, taking both of them by surprise. "No," she repeated softly, "What if he's being controlled? What if they kill them instantly?"

Shade looked at her imploringly, pleadingly, but said nothing.

"We can't," Kesia repeated, and they were silent.

"Look what you fucking made me do!" Trim shouted, waving his gun wildly through the air, "It's all _your_ fucking fault, you stupid son of a bitch!"

Zandra stood motionless, unsure of what to do. Trim's vacillating moods were getting more extreme by the second, and his rage was even more unsettling. Agents stood around them, still statues. It certainly was a dire situation: Zandra knew that Cover wasn't able to fight, and she wasn't even sure that she could get out of it, either. _Just anticipate._

"Trim, I'm _sorry_," Cover finally said, raising his palms up in symbolic offering. Trim's eyes widened, and his gun became steady.

"_Sorry_?" He repeated, walking closer to the two of them. He began to laugh; a forced, sharp laughter that rang eerily in their ears. "You're never sorry."

"Trim," Zandra said, surprising herself by the sound of her voice. She continued much quieter: "He didn't do anything." Trim stopped walking, almost as shocked as she. His gun was still trained on Cover.

"You stupid _whore_," he spat, "That piece of shit _ruined my life_. You know what he did to me?"

Trim walked closer to Zandra and began waving his gun at Cover again. The agents still watched.

"After all I did for you, I got nothing. I '_watched the ship'_," he seethed, turning back to Cover. "I sat around _waiting_ for you to come back," he continued hatefully, "I had to rely on _her_ for contact! For _company_!" He spat on the ground in a crude gesture of repulsion and continued. "_She's_ why you're here now."

Zandra felt a buzz in her pocket and looked to see if anyone had noticed. All eyes were on Trim. For now, there was still nothing anyone could do. Trim suddenly shouted, and was back at them again.

"I _loved_ you," he told Zandra, a brief wave of anguish passing through his transparent eyes before turning to fire again, "You were all I cared about." He paused. "But you didn't _want_ me." He turned to Cover again, eyes fully ablaze.

"And the one thing I had, you _gave_ to him! My… _feigned authority_ – you gave it to a piece of _shit_ like him! My _one_ pride! You fucking _ruined_ me!" His voice broke, and Trim paused. A moment passed and he turned back to Zandra.

"And then _you_. You _stupid_ bitch – you thought you'd be nice and give me a break." He sneered at Zandra's confused expression. "I was there," he continued, "Libertas has thinner walls than you think."

"I'm not your fucking _charity_!" he suddenly screamed, putting the gun back on Zandra. Zandra watched with pain as tears began to fall down his red cheeks. Again he paused, and then laughed. Another buzz in Zandra's pocket. 

"But I'm _done_ serving you filth," he said, his gun gesturing, vacillating between the two of them. The agents still didn't move.

"We'll see if that bastard _Shade_ comes to save you," he said to Zandra, "Because I'm fucking _done_ here."

Zandra stopped breathing for a moment. Was _that_ the point of leaving him there? So that he would die trying to save her? _Of course not_, she thought scathingly, _that was Cover's idea_. But Shade was up there in Libertas with Kesia… was he planning his debut right then? Hopefully not… _I don't need you to come_, Zandra thought with disdain, _that would only make things worse…_

"Try and save him, Zandra," Trim suddenly continued, gesturing to Cover again, "I'd enjoy _watching_ it." He paused, then turned to the agents. "Get ready," he told them, facing away from Cover and Zandra. Each agent steadied his feet and at once aimed only for Zandra.

"No more _shit_, Zandra. They've figured out your tricks – no more rubber bullets."

Zandra looked around nervously – _had they really_? Instantly she began to question her abilities… and their chances of escaping alive. Despite her fear, she hated even more the clear enjoyment that Trim derived from her fear. Something similar to hate welled up in her, and she felt the sudden urge to injure… to even kill her former crewmate. But in a moment, it had passed – she was more concerned with preserving her own life than extinguishing another. _Anticipate_.

"Isn't it a _bitch_, Zandra, isn't fate a bitch. Now say goodbye to your captain before it's too late."

"Trim," Cover started-

"Too late," he answered, and fired.

A/N – and thus the storm begins…

Kal Torak – Yeah, I always looked at Trim as a mix between the Kid, Mouse, and Cypher. He's just an awkward, gawky, pissed-off, hormone-pumped teenager. And that, as we have seen, is a dangerous combination.

As for how often I write, it's as much as I can. Today I wrote some in English while I had a second after copying notes… but usually it's like an hour every other school night, and like 3 hours on the weekends. I write furiously when I get an idea, or a conversation going. Fun stuff…

Thanks again… :) And don't worry, I'll always be typing no matter what!

Alocin – Ooh Cover! Now wouldn't that have been interesting… but no, it was Trim. Sorry to lead everyone astray, but I can't have everyone guess it, you know.


	21. Destruction

Protector of Men Ch 97

*I do not own "O captain, my captain". It is by Walt Whitman.

_

O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done, 
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; 
But O heart! Heart! Heart! 
O the bleeding drops of red, 
Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 
_

****

"I have to go!" Shade shouted, strapping himself into a fourth chair, "Plug me in!" He was frenzied, and his voice broke at the end of his shout. Kesia was startled by his ferocity quickly retreating into submissiveness. 

"Shade," Kesia started, her eyes red, "I can't, it's _too much_…"

"If Trim can stay in, _I'm_ going in!" he continued, his voice becoming even louder. "I'm not letting them die! They need us, Kesia, they _need me_!"

Kesia's lip trembled, but she was resolute. She pulled herself out of the operator's station and helped Shade with his final straps. She looked briefly to the abandoned cockpit, but looked away quickly. It wouldn't matter if the sentinels came – if Zandra was dead, _they_ were as good as dead anyway.

"_Hurry_," he said, leaning his head back. Kesia nodded; she abandoned all grace and shoved the needle into Shade, hurrying back to her station to execute. He winced from the pain, but it was only present for a moment.

Kesia looked around the ship once he was gone. It was quiet.

The world slowed down as Zandra went for Cover. She knew what to do, because she had done it before; she had seen it before. Each agent would be starting to fire soon, and Trim would continue to think he was winning. She was at Cover now, picking him up off the ground, hoping to get him out.

But something was wrong. Zandra noticed with dismay that things were not moving as slowly as she expected, and looked up to see a smile on each of the agents' faces as they continued to fire.

_Oh no, oh no…_

_Out! Faster, out_! She told herself, shutting her eyes from exertion, _Out! Now!_

Zandra screamed and it was over.

"Get away," Trim screamed at the agents, "Get the fuck _away_!"

Reluctantly, obediently, they did so.

Trim wasn't surprised to see what he did. And though he was set in his decision, equal parts of him held both contempt and pain. His part was over; _this was it_.

"God _fucking_ damn. It's over."

The agents looked to him silently. Trim stood motionless, staring at the ground in front of him. It was over. All coherent thought seemed to evade him; the same words repeated in his mind like a relentless taunt. _It's over_. Trim put the gun to his own head and sighed. Emotion was gone; he was empty.

"At least I'll get to kill _someone_," he muttered, and pulled the trigger. Kesia screamed as his blood spattered through the Libertas.

The agents left their hosts simultaneously.

When Zandra opened her eyes again she was a world away from the agents. She was outside a skyscraper, on the sidewalk. The streets were empty. For a moment she had forgotten that she was carrying Cover, but soon remembered it with horror. 

"Cover, _Captain_," she said quietly, putting him down. His eyes were closed and he did not answer. Zandra laughed nervously.

"Come _on_," she said, looking him over-

"Oh, god."

Holes in his shirt displayed what Zandra feared the most. Red blotches stained the fabric of his shirt, spreading in bloody circles across his body.

"Oh, god," Zandra repeated at a whisper, scanning Cover multiple times – to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Cover's fists were clenched, his eyes still shut.

Back in the Libertas, Kesia had lost all hope. She sat at her console; sometimes sobbing into her hands, others taking quick glances at the coding before wailing again. She had tried to save him; she had done CPR, she had bandaged his wounds, and even shocked his heart, but to no avail. Her cries echoed through the tunnels of the real.

"Oh, _captain_," Zandra said, willing herself not to believe it. She dared not to check his pulse, fearing that if she did, it would make it irreversible. As long as she didn't think it, it couldn't be true, _right_?

Blood was beginning to dry on his clothing; long ago had it stopped flowing from his injured body. She took his hand pleadingly, but dropped it instantly. There was nothing there but cold. Cold, and death.

Cover was dead. Irreversibly dead.

She was crying again; without blinking tears began to fall. She kneeled on the ground next to his fallen body, rocking and shaking, uncertain. Her guide was gone; she was alone. 

She wasn't where he thought she was, and it worried him. Trim's body lay crumpled in the street; a useless gun rest next to his limp arm. Shade was alone, and it worried him.

"Zandra?" he called out weakly, looking around. The street was empty.

He never knew what hit him.

Zandra regained consciousness of the situation after a few minutes and jumped back from Cover's fallen body. Her captain was gone, but she was still in danger. And the virus… and Trim…

She pulled out her phone and dialed for Kesia, who answered with stifled cries.

"What do we do?" Zandra asked with humility. Kesia didn't know.

"Shade's in there," she was able to answer, "Get him, get him…"

Her heart began to pound again at the mention of his voice. Instantly she closed the phone, and was gone.

Cover might have been proud to see how they acted in his wake. Perhaps it had been a mistake for him to go in, but _he_ didn't regard it as so. If Shade had gone in, it would have been him – and even Cover could see what a bond that he and Zandra shared. What had to happen, happened, as he saw it. He was ready to die for the cause; he was the _only_ one ready to die for it. He had completed his job: Zandra's education was complete, Shade's training was finished, and Kesia's experience had been augmented. Each of them gained something from him that they could not have found without him and though he was gone, he would remain with them for much longer. Cover wasn't just another casualty. He had made a difference, and would live on.

A/N – bad Trim! Look what he did :(. Oh, no! What happened to Shade?

Alocin – well, I kind of misled you on purpose. You had it right a long time ago… but I didn't just wanna TELL you guys…

Vez – Oh yeah, I've exploded Smiths before. It was fun… but it still scares me! Have you done all the hacking stuff? That was the most gratifying for me, even if I did cheat a little…


	22. Revival

Protector of Men Ch 97

She was back in the street where she had left Trim. It was empty – the agents were gone, and Trim's corpse was to the side a few yards away. Zandra started running once she saw Shade's lifeless body. He wasn't facing her, and she dreaded what she might find on the other side.

"Oh, Shade!"

She turned him over and moaned at the sight of his wounds. His eyes were open; rolled into the back of his head. Dark red blood lay on the ground in a pool that rippled from her movements. It fell from his body in pulses, and he still wasn't moving.

"Oh, god," she pleaded, beginning to shake him, "Please… please, not another one."

Shade still wouldn't wake. Zandra saw the blood on her hands and recoiled for a moment. The memory of it filtered through her and suddenly Stephen… and _Cover_… lay in front of her.

"Don't let me fail again," she whispered to herself, shaking him still, "I need you."

He was struggling to find consciousness but it continued to evade him. The pain was over and though he knew there was more to be done, the actions were irreversible. Zandra was becoming hysterical; tears streamed down her face.

"Shade, you can't leave," she asserted, "It's not real. It's _not_."

Tears gave way to sobs and quickly Zandra was losing hope. Every second that passed was a second gone. "Not again…" she said, remembering Stephen. He died for her – and now Shade was going to follow.

"You can't go!" she shouted at him, looking over his many wounds, "It's not real!"

And she wouldn't let him go – not this time. Hopelessness gave way to determination. There _had_ to be a way. She placed a hand over his chest and closed her eyes, sighing deeply. _This isn't real_.

Yet he still did not move. There were no bullet holes, and no sign of life except for the blood that continued to ooze from his still vessel. It hadn't worked.

"Shade," she pleaded, "Please, I need you." She stopped, replaying the words she had just said. Slowly she was coming to the realization that this was the person she needed most; this was the man that was to be her support and sunshine in the dark. This was the person she had come to love more than anyone else - more than William, more than Stephen… This was the person the Oracle was talking about, and this time it was true. She loved him. She _needed_ him… and now, in both their darkest hours, he had left her. Finally Alex broke and collapsed onto his still torso.

Kesia stopped heart compressions. Time of death: 3:42.

__

"Really, Shade, you've got to understand. She's gonna need help, just like everyone else… she needs to know that you're gonna be there for her."

"What do I have to do?"

"You're gonna have to be there for her, or things won't go well."

This wasn't going to be the end of the world. He wasn't dead; though he was _close_, his spirit still lingered. He watched as she ran screaming to his body, watched with awe as she repaired him, and watched with anguish as she cried over him, still unable to move. Kesia would not have recognized him; though Shade's code read as a corpse, a form of him was still there, and struggling to get back.

For a moment he marvelled at the situation he was in: somehow, his code was still there… some kind of glitch was creating an almost out-of-body experience that allowed him – though he was unconscious – to watch everything that Zandra was going through. But it was only for a moment. His desire to be with her was overpowering – and now there was a very large chance that his feelings would only be a memory…

To do that was to end up Stephen, and he was never one to pose as another.

An alarm went off in the Libertas and Kesia turned to look towards the cockpit. There was no use in fending them off, now.

Shade gulped air and lived. Zandra recoiled; instantly struck out of her melancholy trance. She looked to him unbelievingly; her eyes were full of confusion and distrust. Was it really over?

"Zandra," Shade whispered, struggling to get up, but she held him down. He smiled at her concern, but waved it away. The worst was over, and they both felt it. They stared at each other for a moment, examining each other, and then embraced. 

Zandra felt Kesia's call coming. They had to get out; urgency was still their priority and though they wouldn't have known the immediate danger of the outside world, they understood how quickly it could kill them. Zandra pulled back from their embrace and stood up.

"We have to get out," she said, pulling him up. Shade took a look at his clothes, then to her. She took his hand reassuringly. "Hold on."

Kesia got them out as soon as she could once they appeared at the hardline. It was difficult work for one person, but there was no other way. Cover still lay in his seat, still jacked in, almost as if waiting to be picked up. Kesia hadn't had time to properly lay him away. Once they were out, she ran to the cockpit with no explanation. The alarms were enough.

"Turn everything off," she told them as she ran off. They could hear buzzing in the air and understood. 

"You go to machinery," Shade said softly, "I'll take the Core."

Zandra nodded and scampered off while Shade started entering commands into the console. Within seconds more lights shut off, and within a minute Shade had powered down the Core. They ran to the cockpit breathless and looked outside. 

There were sentinels scanning – probably only five or six, but it was enough of a threat to worry about. And though they weren't finding much, there was still some power of the Libertas' that was bothering them. The bedraggled crew watched as the sentinels would fly a few yards away, and then inch back, opening their scans again, as if unsure.

"We're leaking some kind of power," Kesia whispered, "Is everything off?"

"Yeah," Zandra whispered. Shade took her hand from behind Kesia. 

"We might have to leave," Kesia said, struggling, "But I don't know if I can do it…" she paused, overcome… "On my own."

Shade put his arm on Kesia, who grabbed his hand and squeezed. They were quiet for a few moments. 

"Let's watch them for now," Zandra said, breaking the long silence, "If they find us, we'll move."

They all agreed, and started their deadly vigil. Kesia sat in the pilot's seat, her hand resting shakily on the EMP. 

A/N – I'm really sorry for the long delay. A lot of not fun things happened this week, and I honestly wasn't able to turn on my computer after school. Too much homework, too much choir.

Steelsings – Yeah, I think you can get it for PS2. And hey, here's a hint to Trim… people write what they know. I used to be good friends with people who did horrible stuff to themselves – and I _know_ things will get better for you. I used to have a lot of problems, but things have gotten a thousand times better with time. And, it's always nice to escape with a good movie :) or a story. :)

Aqua_Phoenix1 – I'm so glad you mentioned the physical portrayal thing… that's something I've been trying to work on lately, because I agree – it seems to carry across feelings much better than just blatantly saying them. And I hated MacBeth. Hamlet is much better.


	23. Exhaustive Vigilance

Protector of Men Ch something

Zandra lay asleep in the corridor between the cockpit and the hallway. She rested with her knees to her chin, her head leaning lopsided against the cold metal of the doorway. It was a fitful sleep; she would only lay quiet for half-hour intervals before startling herself awake again. Stress had finally begun to take its toll on her: despite her fatigue, she could get no rest.

Kesia sit silently at her captain's chair, staring at the pipeways in front of them. She had done so for almost six hours, and hadn't felt the urge to rest. She was what they would be dependent on now – she was the only one who knew how the ship worked, and how to fly… Zandra may have been the master of the Matrix, but when the time came, it would boil down to Kesia's efforts. _She_ was their way home, not Zandra. The sentinels had lost interest a few hours before and had disappeared, but Kesia was still vigilant. They hadn't seemed satisfied with their readings - hovering a few hundred yards off, moving right and left. It was like they were squinting, as if trying to get a better view of the formless source of electricity that they could feel so slightly. After almost forty minutes of checking and rechecking, they finally drifted off, a few of them rescanning as they retreated into the pipes. Kesia knew they would come back with more; it was only a matter of time. 

Shade had volunteered for the task of gravedigger. He was quiet as he trudged into the Core, coming up on both Cover and Trim's bodies; dreading the task, yet willing to perform it. 

It was almost completely dark in the main deck; only one faint blue emergency light cast a glow from the center of the room. Shade held his breath while checking their straps, making a point to look at their arms and not their faces. Kesia hadn't done anything to them since the day before - they were still strapped in with their needles still inserted. For a short moment he stood back and gazed at the two of them, unfocusing his eyes with a foolish hope that maybe, _just maybe_ they had been alive the whole time, and were waiting to be taken out…

But it was a foolish hope, and Shade still had a job to do. 

He walked to Trim first, his plan clear. A grimace grew on his face as Shade undid the many straps on his chair, remembering his actions the day before. Trim deserved death… and not much more. It had been so much work before - trying to be polite, trying to skirt the plain truth that Cover had hired Shade for the _sole purpose_ of _replacing_ Trim. It was supposed to be easy, Cover had assured him, it would be a gradual 'fade-out'. But it hadn't turned out that way: though Shade tried to be as amiable as possible, Trim was always pointing out his shortcomings – his inability to do work on the ship, his newcomer status. It was always a job staying civil, and now, it was useless. It was time wasted. 

Shade held his breath again while taking out the needle. There was blood all over the chair, some on the metal of the wirework behind it – and though it had long fallen from the air, he still was repulsed by the sight of it. Shade wrapped his hand in the sleeve of his shirt to take it out, all the while staring at the blast in the side of Trim's skull. The only wound he had ever received – and it was self-inflicted. He was a waste of a rebel. 

It was hard to manually opening the bay door, but Shade worked diligently to be as quiet as possible. He then half-carried Trim's bloody body out of the ship and into the pipeways. He took his time and made sure to put it a good distance away out of disgust, and trudged back to the ship with blood on his clothes. Half the job was done.

Shade looked to Cover with longing. He lay peaceful in his chair. Shade took care in unbinding him and taking out the needle, trying not to move him unnecessarily. He carried him into the captain's quarters and laid him on his bed as delicately as he could, which was fairly easy because of Cover's small frame. Shade turned and looked one last time at his fallen leader; once tired, but now at peace. He looked regal; like a warrior of old – and it seemed like he needed a sword at his side to commemorate his glory. He had been a good leader. Cover was at peace, and that was what mattered. Shade sighed lovingly, looked away, and closed the door behind him. 

Zandra woke with a start as Shade approached the cockpit a few minutes later, after changing his clothes. She sighed and started to get up, but he stopped her, gesturing for her to stay sitting.

"Back?" she whispered as he took a seat next to her. Shade gave a weak smile.

"Just had stuff to do," he replied, taking her hand. Kesia looked back at them and smiled, surprising them with its intense sincerity. 

"Did they come?" Shade asked. Kesia turned around again and shook her head slowly. 

"Nothing," she said, "They're coming eventually, though." She looked out to the pipeways and sighed. "We have to go back," she continued, looking to Zandra, "This is too much. There's nothing else we can do."

Zandra said nothing; Shade squeezed her hand.

"Did Neo tell you anything before it happened?" he asked. Zandra shook her head, avoiding his gaze.

"Is there any point in trying that virus?" Shade continued, now looking to Kesia. She shrugged.

"It looked clean, but I don't know what it'll do. Trim could have overwritten it." They all paused at the mention of his name, but Kesia started up again.

"The Matrix isn't stable – the last time I saw it. With all those Smiths in one place, and then all those agents in the open – people are going to start questioning. I think they already have."

"Should we try?" Shade asked. Kesia shook her head in thought. 

"We might as well," Zandra said, lifting her head from the floor, "We have nothing to lose, now."

They all nodded. 

"We should at least wait though," Kesia said. "We can't let you go in, and then have the sentinels come back. You have to go alone, and you have to be fast."

Zandra now nodded alone, having expected her guidelines. Slowly they all became dormant again; Zandra leant on Shade's shoulder and slipped into shallow sleep, Shade stared blankly at the wall, and Kesia continued her everlasting vigil. 

It was cold in the ship, and it continued to get colder. Without the heater the temperature would drop almost twenty degrees, hovering only fifteen above freezing. There was no food either – without power, their single-cell would freeze into an inedible gelatin. For now, they were relying on themselves, their bodies only, to survive. Within an hour Shade brought back blankets for them to cover themselves with. Zandra accepted the token gratefully and curled up against him, savoring the body heat they shared. Kesia suffered silently. 

They were the last dregs of Purgatory; the survivors. Every moment was a reminder of their mortality, and it was as if they were waiting for the inevitable. Death was waiting for them, and they knew it. A dark silence invaded the ship, and throttled their hopes. And thus they waited, cold and alone, for another seven hours.

A/N – again, sorry for the delay. Last week I not only got the stomach flu, but went to the all-state convention in San Antonio. It's been an extremely busy week – I've been at tutoring every day before AND after school to do makeup work, and that's not including choir rehearsals and CONCERTS. I have choir competition tomorrow. I'm tired.


	24. Into the Eye

Protector of Men Ch 100(!)

"This connects you to all our turrets," Kesia explained, gesturing to a small yellow button on the large control panel. Shade nodded, taking it in.

"This flips on the PA," she continued, pointing to a large switch on the wall behind them. "If something happens, tell me immediately on this."

Shade nodded for a second, but suddenly stopped. "Won't that use power?"

Kesia nodded. "If you have to use it, it won't matter anyway."

They were quiet for a moment, but Kesia resumed her lesson quickly. It had been almost eight hours since Shade had returned to the cockpit, and the sentinels still had not come. Finally Kesia agreed to let Zandra go in the one last time, as long as the machines didn't come back. The preparations were lengthy: before Kesia would leave the cockpit, she made sure that Shade was able to cover for her while she was watching out for Zandra. He was the alarm – if something happened outside, he had to tell Kesia as quickly as possible so that they could get Zandra out in time. It would all be useless if they turned off the power before she was out. 

Zandra had turned on the Core and was preparing herself for the jack. This had to be done quickly – and though it was easier to be alone, it was still going to be difficult. She wasn't sure what to expect once she was in – would the agents come full force again? Kesia had said that the agents' recent multitude of appearances would alter the stability of the program, so would they now back off to save themselves? Now more than ever the virus would be vital; if people were beginning to question things already, Libertas' actions would only serve to affirm their beliefs. Now that the war was about to start, a blow to the Matrix would help them, even if it cost a future population of Zion. 

__

Execute vector, email Z10N, sever lines.

Zandra was hungry and cold; the lack of vitals was already beginning to take a toll on her small frame. She salivated at the thought of single cell, and swallowed, unsticking her dry mouth. Anything would have been appreciated then, but even water was out of the question. She clutched her blanket closer around her body and shivered. Certainly it was only a few degrees above freezing – and she only wore the thin clothes that the resistance supplied her. Her physical fatigue made her weary, and she took care in mentally preparing herself for the task ahead. Kesia had briefed her a few hours ago – assuring her in quiet whispers that it would not only be easy, but quick. Zandra found it hard to be realistic when her caressing assurances were so soothing – the truth was too hard to think about. 

__

Execute vector, email Z10N, sever lines.

There was to be no phone communication while Zandra was in – the agents would trace her quicker with a live connection, and it would waste too much time. She was going to implement the virus, and get out. It would be simple, as Kesia said. Zandra kept repeating her short instructions as her head began to fall, soon giving in to the compulsion to rest. It was easy to drift into unconsciousness in the darkness of the Core, and Zandra was careful not to fall too deep into sleep. It was almost over.

Kesia came in quietly a few minutes later. "Let's go," she whispered, breaking Zandra's trance and taking her seat at the console. Zandra strapped up her legs in the chair as Kesia uploaded the information for the vector.

"I did a last check, and it still looks clean," Kesia said quietly, now moving over to where Zandra lay. "I think he was really gonna help."

Zandra scoffed quietly as Kesia finished strapping her into the chair.

"Same place?" she asked. Kesia shook her head.

"Similar - not the same."

Zandra didn't have to ask why. Kesia inserted her needle and moved back to her operator's station. She typed a few lines, the sound of the keyboard strangely loud in the stifling silence. After a moment, she turned back to Zandra. It was hard to see it was so dark.

"Ready?" Kesia whispered, her hand hovering above the 'execute' button. Zandra nodded.

"Be quick," she reiterated, "Good luck."

Everything became black.

In Zion the war began.

It was the typical dark, dirty room. Cracked linoleum flooring creaked under her weight, and one small lamp swung minutely from a foot above. This was the last time Zandra would be in the Matrix, and for a moment, she just took in her surroundings. It may have been dirty, but it was her old home, and she was about to destroy it. There were two tables here; one was empty, and one held the laptop that she was about to get started on. Zandra sat in front of the computer and started up immediately; time was always of the essence. There would be no reassuring phone calls this time – Zandra was on her own. Speaking was time wasted, and the mission had to be quick. Their lives depended on it.

She started DOS mode, executing what files she needed in order to keep her computer safe from the vector. Though it wouldn't damage her computer, it would render all computers in the virus' reach incapacitated for a number of hours. It wasn't made to destroy; it was made to inform – and she hoped it would do _just _that.

Shade continued watching the pipeways in the cockpit, staring blankly out the window, eyes unfocused and dry. It had been a long mission, and it felt… wrong - to have such silence and peace with such inner turmoil and impending violence. Wasn't this supposed to be an epic battle, with chivalry, with good triumphing over evil? Weren't they fighting for a noble cause? Wasn't there something grand about it all? Certainly there was _something_?

He was answered with silence. Shade looked slowly about him, to the dark pipeways ahead and guessed the truth. The air was cold and dead around them, and all was still.

Zandra waited patiently at her computer, glancing every now and then to the door behind her. Her computer had stalled – something relatively normal while tampering with the code, but altogether unsettling. She didn't want to call Kesia, because that meant that the mission was off. As long as the computer was still processing, which it still was, she would wait. 

Kesia watched the screen with anxiety. The code on the screens in the Core cast a sickly green light that created long shadows in the large room. She stared intently – no agents had come, but they _had_ been alerted to her presence. Her eyes roved the falling code quickly, looking for a diversion, for a problem more pressing – but there was none. The virus hadn't been implemented yet, and there were no other rebels present in the Matrix. Something was up, but she didn't yet know what.

Kesia continued watching, Shade continued enduring, and Zandra continued waiting. They were all passively fighting, all doing what small part they could in the battle. But someone else too was passively fighting, and waiting for the opportunity to arise.

A/N – thinking this is looking more like a weekly thing… but not sure. Next chapters get interesting… Poor Shade, he's jaded.

This week was my birthday, and my first concert. It seems like every week I end up having some BIG thing that takes up all my time, but whatever. Next week it's concert preparations, WOOHOO.

Kal Torak – thanks, I actually feel better now :) But I certainly had a lot of makeup work!! Oh, and we got best score in competition, oh yeah.

Alocin – yes to sleep! I have weekends, and that's what it's all about.


	25. Completely Inscrutable Conversations

Protector of Men Ch 101

[Mainf.exe OPEN BROADCAST]: Arch.exe is executed. All agents to bays until further notice. Arch.exe will notify when terminated.

[CLOSED BROADCAST]

Zandra sat at her computer, staring at the screen with exponentially increasing agitation. One more minute, she decided, and then she'd abort. This was an important mission, but it wasn't worth losing what was left of the crew. She sighed, and continued waiting, staring absently at the wall.

And for a moment, the wall became invisible. Just for a moment, but it was enough for Zandra to get a glimpse at the dark alleyway outside the small shack she was in. Zandra's heart rate instantly quickened; she knocked over her chair in her immediate move to defense. Something glittered in the air, and was gone.

Kesia watched with resigned horror as the matrix glitched grotesquely. A moment later, Zandra had disappeared from the code entirely. It was then that Kesia finally lost all hope.

"Welcome, Alex," a deep voice greeted. Zandra squinted; in the bright of the room, it was hard to determine who was speaking to her.

"What is this?" she asked, clearly irritated. The deep voiced man faced away from her in a large chair, apparently deciding to keep himself hidden for the moment. On the walls Zandra began to mumble various threats.

"Well, Alexandra, I would have guessed someone in your circle of acquaintances would have bruit _that_ about the town already," he condescended.

"_Zandra_," she responded, further irritated. Screens began to mumble again, and Zandra glanced at them for a moment before addressing the voice again. "And what, exactly_, is_ this?"

The man turned to her, showing to be an older man with thinning white hair, and a hint of a malicious grin on his wizened face.

"I," he said with confidence, "Am the Architect."

Various screens scoffed with intolerance and exasperation. Zandra had remembered that name well enough – and knew well enough that Neo hadn't trusted the man for a reason. This man – this _program_ – was the reason why Zion failed before.

"I have no doubt that you have already been heralded to my presence," he began with a condescending sigh, "But, nonetheless, you will deign to hear what I have to say.

"Usually, in the succession of the Matrix, an anomaly will present itself at a precise time and place – therefore, we can successfully immure the anomaly and keep the Matrix program running successfully."

The screens on the walls simultaneously cut to pictures of Neo; pictures Zandra had never seen of him before – of running, of sleeping, of _saving_…

The screens turned black.

"But," he continued, darker in tone, "The _bete noire_ of my existence – a _true _anomaly to the equation – appeared on our seventh progression of the program."

The screens cut to Zandra; shots of her when she was a happy child, of when she was a struggling teenager, a jaded young adult…

"Normally, the anomaly will appear late enough in the timeline of our program schedule so that we are sufficiently able to create a labor force for its arrival." He paused.

"But I was early," Zandra finished. The Architect smiled evilly and nodded.

"The anomaly was allowed to exist for the sole purpose of the continuing propagation of the Matrix. Without the anomaly, people do not accept the program, and loss of subjects becomes dangerous. It appeared _in medias res_ so that once we had accumulated a resistance, we would have ample forces to subdue it."

On the screens Zandra scoffed again, some cursed quietly.

"You made it so Zion would lose _every time_."

The Architect smiled again and laughed once; a single expulsion of breath that was halfway between a chuckle and a sneer, but altogether repulsive. Zandra backed away, towards the door.

"You see though, _Alex_," the Architect started again, "That we have a problem."

"It's _Zandra_," she emphasized, as her screen counterparts got more agitated, "And it looks to me like there's no problem at all."

The screens turned dark, and that Architect began to speak.

"But you see, _Alex_, there is. You continue to be refractory, but you have no basis."

A flash of images began to play on the screen: first it was Alias getting wounded, and Pasiphae's death… it then cut smoothly to Stephen's death… to a rather small and fuzzy picture of Kemp's last stand… to Trim's last moments, and finally Cover's.

"Our forces have been quite successful in terminating the rebellion. Once we knew what threat there was when you presented yourself as the anomaly, the rebellion was terminated earlier, and more frequently than usual.

"We have killed over half of all the forces the rebellion has garnered over the course of our present execution."

Zandra looked around herself for a way out, but there was none. The screens around her began shouting, but one remained silent, as she did.

"You see," he continued, "Though there may be an unexpected… advantage to the rebellion in the case of the Real, but we have proven ourselves extremely effective in controlling that in the Matrix."

Zandra laughed out loud.

"Controlling? Over a hundred agents in one place, in the open?" She was silent for a moment, but then added: "I'm not one for your prolix soliloquies, and I'm not giving you anything."

The Architect frowned, and nodded.

"The instability of the Matrix's present state is recognizable, but not wholly unfixable. Who is to say that we might be creating an internecine continuity? The Matrix cannot live without Zion, and Zion cannot live without the Matrix."

"Bullshit," Zandra replied along with her screen counterparts. "If we can beat you out there, why don't you let them go in the Matrix?"

The Architect sighed loudly and closed his eyes for a moment, as if irritated.

"The Matrix must survive as a propagation tool for humanity, as well as a source of energy for our kind. Zion will endure presently whether we desired it to or no, due to our own fallacies."

"So you're saying we shouldn't destroy your forces," she said, shaking her head with disbelief. "I'm not taking it."

"As long as we can successfully retract ourselves and maintain our territory, Zion will remain for the time being, as will the Matrix."

"You're proposing a peace treaty," Zandra scoffed, "When we're at war – and we have the advantage! I can't trust you."

The Architect leaned forward, his eyes up looking at Zandra.

"I have no doubts that you have been informed to hold no confidence in my words," he said, unblinking, "But I do not err, and am not human. I assured Neo that if he took that door, Zion would be restarted."

Zandra was silent; the screens were silent too.

"I am not asking for anything because I know that if it transposed that we continued at a juxtaposition, _we would survive_. But I _am_ saying that if what you want is peace – _quiet_ – then get Zion to stop fighting, and leave the Matrix."

"And what would I do?"

"You go home, back to your bunk and your human preoccupations."

Zandra paused. "You won't leave us alone," she said, "You'll just hit us again once you're ready."

The Architect frowned again. "There is a possibility of that occurring," he said, "But this is a temporary establishment meant for the mutual betterment of both domains."

Zandra shook her head in disbelief. Had she really just negotiated a truce with a machine – the Architect of the Matrix? It seemed surreal, but life kept moving on. The Architect watched her intently.

"You're quicker than the rest," he said slowly, "The others were much less aware."

A few of the screens muttered various insults, but Zandra merely rolled her eyes smally. 

"I think we both know what you're going to do," he said after a moment, and looked off behind Zandra. A door had appeared in the wall at the same place she had come in.

"I hope that we may meet again," he said somewhat cynically as she moved for the door.

"We'll see," Zandra replied, and left.

A/N – you LIKE? Crazy crazy. Sorry for my sad vocabulary – I tried to stick in as many inscrutable words as I could think of. Only one review! :( Yay for term paper – this was my break from it. Yay for Dostoevsky.

Alocin – well, now you know…

Maudlin – overly sentimental

Savior-faire – tact

Refractory – stubborn

Bathos – shmaltz


	26. Two Paths

Protector of Men Ch 102

Zandra found herself back in the room that she had left just minutes ago – just as dark, just as quiet. She didn't pay attention as she sat down at the laptop again. A prompt flashed on the screen; it took her a few moments to realize its existence.

Execute program? [Y/N]

She stared at the question with resignation – what was the point sending out the virus now? They couldn't extract anyone from the Matrix as long as the war continued, so why make them want out? Enough people knew already, so wouldn't it make more sense to let the others live the lie peacefully for a little while longer? Wasn't ignorance bliss, anyway?

But _perhaps that was what the Architect wanted_, Zandra mused. Perhaps the only thing he wanted was for her to pull out prematurely and run home to be destroyed herself. Maybe he was lying – Neo said he was false, hadn't he?

But Neo was dead, and his credibility faded with each moment he was gone. The fact was, whether they told the coppertops or not, it wouldn't make a difference. They couldn't save anyone for now, so all it would do was further jeopardize the overall stability (and therefore, _survival_) of everyone left in the Matrix. It didn't matter much whether she trusted the Architect, because what was important was survival – and right then, the survival of Zion was in peril.

"Keep firing!" Captain Aegir shouted to his group of soldiers, which happened to be little more than his crew and a few stragglers. Sentinels flew in tight circles around the docks, but not many were falling at the hands of the soldiers. Their fire was more a deterrent from attack than an offensive tactic. As long as the rebels kept firing, the sentinels might not go after them.

"Where's the Mayflower?" One of the soldiers shouted. He had to repeat his question a few times before Aegir could understand him amidst the penetrating roar of gunfire.

"They're out!" he shouted, "Just keep steady!"

The soldier was quiet and resumed his pointless fire. The batteries hadn't been fired in a while – at least half an hour, and it disturbed him. The batteries were the secret weapon of Zion and without them, they wouldn't stand a chance against the hordes of sentinels. Plus, the Mayflower had some of the best shooters available and, in addition, they tended to keep everyone's hopes intact. The Mayflower had lost everything, and through the reminder of their losses, others saw an overwhelming survival of hope. If they could keep fighting, everyone could. But without them…

There was a loud explosion and the firing stopped for a moment. All the soldiers looked to their left and saw another group of sentinels – must have been almost fifty – erupt from what was now a irregular hole in the metal paneling between two floors of apartments. 

Hopefully no one was taking refuge on that floor.

"Fire, _fire_!" Aegir screamed as a small detachment of sentinels turned to their quiet battalion. Their weapons erupted instantly, their scared faces transfixed on what seemed to be their coming doom. The sentinels advanced, but then instantly paused. A few turned around, as if something had called them. One fell to the ground a few hundred feet below, succumbing to the eventual wear of thousands of rounds. It crashed a few seconds later, a wave of heat slowly coming up to the group huddled on one of the residential floors.

Aegir's radio spouted a short order and he suddenly sprang to life, jumping from the ground and tearing apart a canister before lobbing it into the air in the direction of the sentinels, which were slowly retreating from them. It was as if something had gotten their attention, however distant or amorphous.

"Air round!" He shouted, and hit the ground. The canister exploded in the air almost a hundred feet short of the sentinels, but it got their attention for a moment.

"More!" He ordered, and the soldiers pulled out their own canisters. Soon there were many shouts of 'air round', and two sentinels were down. The rest seemed perplexed.

"Keep 'em occupied!" Aegir continued, starting his rifle fire again. The rest of his battalion followed suit, starting their volleys again. Another sentinel fell.

"What are we stopping them for?" One soldier asked, inching slowly over to where Aegir was situated. He stopped firing for a moment and looked over at the scrawny soldier.

"It's the Mayflower," he shouted, looking back out into the air. For the moment, the sentinels were back to attacking the small battalions that were sporadically placed on Zion's floors. The soldier waited for more.

"The Mayflower!" Aegir repeated, trying to concentrate, "We're covering them!"

"What are they doing?" the soldier yelled, almost hysterical.

"They're _leaving_! They're going for Libertas!"

Zandra pulled out her phone and dialed for Kesia. It sounded like she had been crying.

"Kesia, I'm back," Zandra said quietly, "Take me out."

"But you didn't do it yet," Kesia said in a whisper. "You're not going to?"

"I can't. I – I'll explain when I'm out."

"Then come out, then."

And everything went black, then white, then dark again. Zandra remembered cold when she woke up in Libertas. The one light in the room cast a blue tint on Kesia, holding her hand out for Zandra to take. Their breath formed small vapor clouds in the fry freezing air.

"They've been sitting there for almost ten minutes," Shade told them as they entered the cockpit, "They're just watching us."

Zandra was quiet. This was the Architect's doing, she knew it. But how long would they leave her alone, and what were they trying to do? Zandra knew they could destroy the sentinels in a moment with a well-placed EMP blast. _Certainly_ they knew their own peril?

"Should we get rid of them now?" Shade whispered, looking to Zandra. She shrugged.

"What happened in there?" Kesia asked.

"They're going to watch us," Zandra whispered, looking out into the pipeways. "I met the Architect of the Matrix," she continued.

"He said we might win the war in real life, but the Matrix wouldn't survive – and he said we won't survive without the Matrix."

"But if we win out _here_…"

"It doesn't matter. We have to get Zion to stop fighting, and they'll leave us alone for a while."

"_How?_" Shade asked, the skepticism obvious in his tone. Zandra tried not to take it personally. She looked at the ground deliberately as she answered him, her jaw minutely clenched in concentration.

"They're surrendering the Real," she said quietly, "If we leave them the Matrix. It's just temporary, but it looks like the only thing to do."

Shade sighed, still not convinced. Zandra made an effort not to look at him. Kesia was quiet, having sensed the slight and unspoken argument between the two's ideology. They were silent for almost a minute before Kesia finally spoke up, however quietly.

"What… what do we do then?" 

Zandra finally looked up to Shade. "We have to go back." He nodded, and they were all quiet again. Kesia and Zandra took seats at the cockpit, while Shade put a consoling arm on Zandra's shoulder. Her legs began shivering, but his gesture was enough to keep her comfortable. It was all the two of them needed to know they were there for each other.

"Can we go, with them there?" Kesia asked, gesturing towards the six or so sentinels quietly watching them. Zandra shrugged.

"I'm not sure of anything," she started, "But either way, we have nothing to lose."

"Okay," Kesia whispered, and flipped up a switch on the console in front of them. "Shade," she asked, "Start up our breakers downstairs."

He followed her orders, a quick squeeze of Zandra's shoulder before he left. Zandra watched the reversal of command with silence – though Shade was supposed to be next in command, Kesia had cleanly taken control. It made sense; Kesia had been with Purgatory for long before Shade had. Always the trusty operator, Kesia had watched as every other newcomer to the crew was put up in line for command except for her. Now, when the orders were for survival, Kesia had gained her post.

The lights began to come back on in the Libertas; Zandra felt an uncommon wave of heat hit her where the vent on the wall was. Silently she moved her hands behind her and began warming them, moving them in an attempt to bring full circulation back. Being in the Matrix hadn't made her feel any better; if anything, worse. Her stillness for those few minutes lowered her temperature further and though she felt somehow warmer, it was only because the deadly cold had numbed her to feeling. A minute later Shade came back up, his job done. 

"We'll be ready to move in about ten," Kesia said, looking to Zandra, her eyes questioning.

"We should go," Zandra replied. Kesia nodded.

"Shade should probably copilot," she said, looking out to the pipeways. Zandra sat still for a moment, but Shade gently prodded her to get up.

"Sorry… that means me," he whispered with a slight smile that disappeared quickly. Zandra made a weak attempt at a laugh and moved out of the way. Shade squeezed her hand, and she thought she heard a slight 'thanks'. 

"Where's the blanket?" Zandra asked, her eyes roving the cockpit.

"It's back in the Core."

Zandra went to retrieve her blanket, and the crew quieted down again. It was only a few minutes to their departure.

A/N – hello! Just got back from spring break and BOY, did I need that. Feel very rested now. Only a few chapters left and I'm still debating on how to end this. There are two ways, I'm just not sure which one I'd like better, or which one you guys would like better. What do you guys think?

Aquaphoenix1 – I'm sorry your internet got cut… scares me about college with all kinds of responsibilities and such *cowers in fear of bills and stuff*

Alocin – oh yeah, weird thing! Kal's review didn't show up, and it didn't email me that he reviewed until a few hours *after yours came! Weird.

Kal Torak – aw, I'm sorry I didn't recognize your review… I promise! It didn't email me until I had posted the next chapter! Anyway, thanks :)


	27. Final Flight

Protector of Men Ch 103

"They're out of range, sir!"

"Did you tell them we'll be out of contact?"

The soldier was quiet for a moment, and got back on the radio to the Mayflower. Outside their small room a battle was raging; though the sounds of war were muffled, they still thundered through Zion, trumpeting its presence to all its inhabitants.

"Columbus, we're going to lose contact once the batteries are blown."

"Understood," the captain replied. The soldier in Zion looked to his commander and nodded. "She knows."

"Tell her to contact us before she gets in range of Zion again."

"With Cover's crew?"

"Yes."

The soldier got on the radio again.

"Columbus?" he asked, hoping that she hadn't turned off her radio in anticipation of their blast. He waited for an answer.

"Yes sir?"

"Radio us in before you're in range again," the soldier continued, "Once you have Cover's crew with you."

"Understood," she answered.

"That's all," the Commander in Zion informed. The soldier nodded.

"Columbus, that is all. Over and out."

"Out," she said, and the radio died.

"Hear that?" Columbus trumpeted through the Mayflower, "We're off-contact until we're back in range again!"

The crew began mumbling about the danger, but none were specific. Columbus knew that they'd accept the immediate – and obvious - danger of the mission. Hell, they had to: she was their captain, and they did _everything _she told them to.

She was just that kind of captain.

"How long 'till we find them?" a crewmember asked, sitting on the floor with a bowl of slop. Columbus looked to the speaker, then shrugged noncommittally. 

"Come _on_, newb," joked Mercury, the ship's ranking officer, "Don't you think she'd have _told_ us if she _knew_? We don't even know where they _are_."

"Hey _asshole_," the crewmember shot back, "I'm not a newbie, alright?"

Mercury looked back in disbelief. He was the ranking officer; they couldn't disrespect him like that… '_asshole_'?

"I've been in this shit for longer than you can _remember_," she continued, playing on Mercury's younger status, "I just haven't been around _you_." She paused, then added: "And thank god for _that_."

"Hey," Kapera said as she came in on the conversation, "Merc's just trying to be fair, okay?"

They were all quiet for a moment, and Kapera continued.

"Mercury's gotta be an ass to everyone; he's just welcoming you in…" she playfully slapped him on the arm and moved to join the new crewmember on the floor, but paused at seeing her still angry attitude.

"Real funny stuff," the crewmember said, "You see this?" She pointed to her heavily braced legs and smiled grotesquely. "_I'm_ not playing around."

Mercury and Kapera were silent; the crewmember went back to eating her food.

"I think, actually," she continued, "that you guys need some practice before we go in _looking_ to save anyone. I wouldn't want you to be _embarrassed_ once you go out with intentions of rescuing _the One_ from certain doom."

Kapera got up and looked to Mercury, as if asking him what to do.

"Yeah," the new crewmember nagged cruelly, "Go, _go_!"

In the background Columbus laughed quietly, making sure none of her crew saw the entertainment she derived from the newbie's cruel attitude. It looked like Alias was already bonding with the crew… Columbus sighed and continued steering the ship towards broadcast level. It seemed like the thought of attacking sentinels had instantly left their minds once they were out of the confines of Zion. So far, they hadn't seen one yet.

Zandra had finally fallen asleep on the floor of the cockpit after a small yet extremely fulfilling meal of single-cell. Her jack-in had, for a while, made her forget about her hunger - but when she did, it was debilitating. Shade had offered to get her something to eat, and she gladly accepted. After only ten minutes she was finished, and conked out on the floor. Shade went back to copiloting, and the Libertas continued their retreat to Zion.

"I can't believe it," Alex's mom said, her eyes misty with emotion, "Our little girl is going to college…"

"Mom," Alex countered kindly, "It's okay – really, it's only a little more than a month 'till I see you guys again."

"I know, it's just a monumentus event!" The family laughed for a moment, taking refuge in their mother's sudden excitement. 

"It's a big step," Will cut in, an evil smile on his face. "You'll have a lot of _fun_… _I'm sure_…"

Alex rolled her eyes and clipped her brother on the shoulder. "You know me," she answered, making sure to look at her mother while assuring them of her virtue. They both just smiled.

"Just stay who you are," her mother said in a sudden burst of emotion, throwing herself over her daughter in what seemed a futile attempt to keep her from leaving. Alex laughed.

"Of course I will!"

"Just do what's right, no matter the consequences," Will said, he too suddenly serious. Alex looked at him questioningly, but he didn't answer. Neo passed them by in the background, giving Zandra a short nod before disappearing into the distance.

"You've been the best daughter we could imagine," her mom said, "My little Zandra…"

"Do what you have to," her brother continued, "_The war has to end_..."

Zandra sighed, and woke up. Shade turned around at her movement and smiled.

"Up again? You were asleep for a good hour."

Zandra yawned sleepily and smiled; somewhat placated by the evolving dream.

"Those sentinels started to follow us," Kesia said, pointing out into the abyss in front of them. "At first I was worried, but it looks like they're just watching out."

Zandra nodded; it made sense enough.

"How long until we get back?"

"Maybe ten hours."

"How long until we get to broadcast level?" Kapera asked, taking a break from manning the gun turrets. For most of them, it had been a quiet two hours, but who knew how much more they had to endure before their mission was complete…

"Maybe ten hours."

A/N – baaaaah to school. I've become so complacent when it comes to school. Ugh I have Senior Presentation this weekend, which means I get to be all prettied up in a nice dress and stuff and stand on a stage while people gasp at my ultimate beauty and accomplishments. Haha… but technically, that's what it is. Meeeeh it's stressful. I hope I don't break out or something….

Alocin – thanks for your input… okay, so an ending without deaths. That sounds about right…

Oh hey! I got a new reviewer on Reprise! That was refreshing; it's nice to see people starting from the beginning… 


	28. Fight for Freedom

Protector of Men Ch 104

"Zandra, get to a turret!"

"Where?"

"_Front_!"

Zandra scampered off to the barracks room while Kesia maintained the ship's balance. Shade watched the battle in front of them frozen – and at the moment, without a job. 

"Shade!" Kesia commanded. He looked at her, shellshocked.

"Get on radio with the Mayflower," she ordered, "Find out why they're here."

Only minutes before the two ships had gazed at each other's exteriors, barely avoiding each other in the thin pipeline. Only seconds had passed before the sentinels that had been peacefully following the Libertas started attacking the Mayflower, leaving them without an opportunity to communicate. Since that moment, it had become an all-out battle between man and machine. 

The Mayflower was taking the brunt of the destruction; the machines saw the ship as a threat to the Libertas, the One. But after a few minutes of brief warfare the sentinels added the Libertas to their targets, and started attacking from behind. Kesia was unable to maneuver the ship much (due to the Mayflower's presence), and there were only three of them in the ship. Already the sentinels were attempting to break into the hull.

"_Go_ Zandra!" Kesia shouted on the loudspeaker as the ship swung around in an attempt to face their attackers. Shade grabbed the arm of his chair with his free hand while radioing the Mayflower.

"Captain Columbus?" Shade said into the panel in front of him, hoping for a response.

"Cover?"

"No, captain," Shade said, simultaneously relieved and saddened, "It's Shade – what are you doing out here?"

Kesia looked to him disapprovingly, but at the moment his slight insubordination would go unnoticed by the captain.

"Coming for _you_," the captain said after a moment of muffled shouting, "Can we talk after this is over?"

Shade mumbled a reply and turned off the radio as a loud blast echoed through the tunnels. He turned to look instantly - a sentinel had fallen to the ground and lay in flames on the metal floor of the pipeways. 

"What happened?" Shade asked Kesia. She was busy maneuvering the ship to Zandra's best angle, and didn't look at him as he spoke. When she answered, it came out stifled, as if she wanted to scream out the answer, but was reserving her energy for the task at hand.

"It exploded after a few hits," she answered, "Don't know."

Shade gave up, and stood. "I'll help Zandra," he said, and ran to the gun deck.

She was sweating prolifically; her brows furrowed, her eyes squinting in concentration. Shade didn't say anything, but briefly touched her shoulder before setting himself down at a second turret console. 

"They're all over," Zandra panted, swerving her aim to the back of the ship, "I can't even keep _centered_ on the damn things."

Shade took her comment to heart and slapped on his headset, ready to attack.

"What are they _doing_?" Zandra asked a moment later, still firing haphazardly into the tunnels, "I thought they would leave us _alone_!"

Shade said nothing.

"Mercury, get _on_ 'em!" Shouted Alias, sitting next to him in one of the many turret stations on the Mayflower. Mercury sighed angrily.

"I _am_," he answered, jaw clenched. It was hard enough to keep the ship free of sentinels in the storm, but even harder was dealing with Alias' condescending tone.

It looked like there were at least fifty sentinels in the air, constantly buzzing around each of the ships before a few would latch onto the hull, firing their lasers. The ships hovered almost in place, turning a few degrees every minute or so in a small attempt to dislodge what sentinels had already connected with the hull. The sentinels were falling quickly, however difficult it seemed to terminate them. 

There was an explosion, a wave of heat, and silence. Both the ships were momentarily silent as they recognized the impact; their turrets lay motionless, spinning to a ticking stop as everything lay silent for that one moment. And then everything exploded back into motion.

Sentinels had erupted from a wall in the pipeway; many of them already lay dead as a result of smashing into the wall. But the force of many had done it, and now over two hundred sentinels were immediately latching onto the hulls of both vessels, now completely overwhelmed.

"Oh, shit," Columbus whispered as their ship shuddered each time a sentinel latched on. She struggled for control of the vessel.

"Kapera," she said, strangely reserved, "Turn everything off. Now."

"Even-"

"Yes, Kapera!" She shouted, "Everything!"

Instantly she jumped out of her seat and bolted to the breaker room. Now it was just a matter of time before either of the ships blasted their EMP, and hopefully they would come out with at least one ship intact. 

"Someone turn everything off!" Came Kesia's voice on the P.A. system. Zandra and Shade looked at each other for a moment, eyes wide.

"Go," said Shade, returning to his firing, "I'll keep them off."

Zandra pulled herself out of the turret system, but didn't go.

"You can't do it alone," she said, "There are too _many_, now!"

Shade stopped firing and got out of his chair, breaking a small glass window and pulling out the small EMP-gun. "_Go_! One of us has to!"

Zandra said nothing and ran off.

"Kesia!" she shouted, hoping that perhaps, by chance, she could hear her shouting, "What order?!"

There was no answer, so Zandra continued her way to the breaker room, leaping down a ladder and landing on the metal floor with a thud. In a brief flash of genius, she smashed the button on the P.A. box.

"Kesia! What order?"

As she waited for a response, she began unlocking the breakers for heat and maintenance systems. Zandra eyed the wall for another harmless power circuit.

"Just _do_ it," Kesia answered as the ship shuddered and veered downwards. "We're heading down either way!"

Immediately she began opening the other breakers, completely neglecting to look at what she was undoing. With both hands she undid the power systems, and around her lights and sounds began to dim.

"Zandra! Do-" and the P.A. went quiet. Horrified, Zandra shoved back in as many breakers as she could, her hands shaking with energy, her mind electric with thought. 

"Zandra!" Kesia shouted as the P.A system came back to life, "_Leave EMP_!"

Zandra didn't respond, but she got the message. Again she opened the breakers, shut off each power circuit in seconds as the ship lurched closer to the ground. She could hear the clank of multiple sentinels on the outer hull and instantly imagined Shade, with his EMP gun… sentinels hovering overhead, ready to attack…

There was a blast and the ship lost control. Zandra held onto the breakers as the Libertas lost power and she suddenly became weightless, holding tighter as the moment of impact loomed closer. Everything was quiet for a second, and then the Libertas crashed. Zandra fell, and silence again possessed them. 

"Mercury, she's in here," someone said in a quiet, hurried voice. Her breathing was labored, and she leaned heavily against the porthole above Zandra's unconscious body.

"I found Shade," another voice said, "Need help with him."

"_Mercury_!" the woman repeated, to no avail. She swore, and pulled herself down into the porthole. She dropped, fell to the ground, and painfully picked herself up before looking to Zandra.

"Wake up," she said soothingly, eyeing her wounds. _Damnit_, she thought, _after all this_… There was a cut on her forehead that seeped blood and the left side of her face was already a mess of bruises. 

"Zandra," she repeated, pulling out a syringe from her medical pack, "Wake up."

With no response, she uncapped the syringe and plunged it into Zandra's neck. After waiting a few moments, Zandra mumbled and opened her dilated eyes.

"Alias?" she slurred, her eyes almost crossed, "'sat you?"

"_Mercury_!" Alias yelled again, frustrated, "She's down _here_!" Zandra winced at the loud noise and closed her eyes again.

"Where's Captain Cover?" Columbus asked Kesia, already dreading what answer may await. Kesia looked down, her jaw clenched.

"Trim went Agent," she answered quietly. Columbus exhaled slowly – she already knew what Kesia was about to tell her. "Cover couldn't get out and… and we _tried_, but he couldn't get out…"

Columbus put her hand on Kesia's shoulder; both out of consolation, and a shared mourning. Columbus' hopes for a family were gone; her vision of peace after war was now replaced with emptiness. She was a widow before she was a wife.

"I'm sorry," Kesia said, but was cut off by Columbus' embrace.

"It's over," she answered quietly, "It's already over."

They pulled away and Columbus' eyes were red. "We don't have a lot of time. Is he still here?"

Kesia nodded. "He's in his quarters."

Within fifteen minutes the Libertas was empty; Zandra, Shade, Kesia, and Cover had been evacuated to the Mayflower and would soon be on their way back to Zion. It would be almost a day before they arrived at the gates of their home, and they dreaded the worst. They looked to Zandra for a plan, but even she still did not know her purpose yet.

A/N – whooh, this chapter was sooo hard to write. Seriously, I've been trying to do this one for over a week. I'm tellin you, it gets harder and harder the closer I get to the end. It's so annoying because all I want to do is write, but I have absolutely no time to. I'm trying to juggle writing this, writing my original epic, school (speaking of which, msn.com named Davidson college as the #7th hardest school to get into! W00t.), updating my choir website, and choir practice… aaah! Anyway! Getting closer to the end…..

Alocin – I know, a year… it certainly has been a long time…

Kal – well, not much longer than it is now, I'm definitely winding down to the end now. And no, I had absolutely no idea that it was going to end up being THIS long. When I started, I just had this vision of this character Zandra falling on her first jump and being really pissed at herself. (make any sense? Sorry) It's certainly morphed into quite an epic…


	29. A Vision of the End

Protector of Men Ch 105

_There was an explosion; Zandra was deafened by the sound of it and recoiled in terror. But before she got a chance to see who had issued the rocket, she was snatched by one of the sentinels and went soaring into the air._

It was over; she knew it. Zandra looked up at her kidnapper; the sentinel was flying upwards and forwards, and now another arm was grabbing at hers for support. Her eyes began to black out from vertigo: she was twenty stories up, and at the mercy of one of the killing machines that she had been attempting to save. A few people below had stopped fighting for a moment.

The sentinel stopped flying and used its free arms to further support Zandra; she was now cupped in its tentacles like a delicate bird in someone's hand. She looked around, clutching the arms of the machine. People at eye level watched her, bewildered, their guns loosely trained on the sentinel that kept her alive.

"Nono," she mumbled, attempting to find her voice, "Don't fight…"

It seemed like her attempt was finally working; most of Zion's battalions had stopped firing, and they seemed to be gaining her trust. Perhaps it would only be a few moments before the sentinels would put her back on solid Earth and leave…

"They want peace!" she continued, palms outward in an obvious gesture of calm. In the distance she heard one officer telling his troops to put down their weapons. It's alright_, Zandra told herself, _it'll be over soon_._

But something had knocked her off-balance; something had hit her so hard she stumbled backwards on her tower of machinery. The sentinels struggled to accommodate her. She couldn't breathe; she looked down – blood was staining her shirt, falling from her chest in intermittent spurts. She recoiled and stumbled further, and as she fell, everything went dark.

"Zandra," Alias barked, jolting her alert, "Stay awake."

Zandra squinted and tried to make out who was speaking. It was very bright, and the world seemed permanently out of focus.

"Zandra, you have a concussion. You can't sleep."

Zandra closed her eyes again; the combination of harsh light and sound made her want to drift back into sleep. Alias jabbed her in the arm.

"Owww," Zandra moaned, rubbing her arm tenderly, "Why'd ya do that."

"Come on Zandra," Alias condescended, "Stay awake for a while so we can determine the severity of your injury."

"Fine," she retorted, sighing heavily. She tried to open her eyes wider and they crossed; she blinked a few times and it righted itself. "What happened?"

"We blew our EMP before you," Alias said, "You guys took a dive and I think you smashed your head into one of the breakers."

She vaguely remembered the past events, but time would help that. After a few minutes Alias finished her tests, deemed Zandra at least partially healthy, and let her rest for an hour or two.

"How has Zion been faring?" Asked Shade, who sat at the large table with his arm bound in a bloody sling. The whole crew had been assembled for a meeting – except for Kapera and Kesia, who were navigating the ship. Everyone there looked to Columbus.

"They've survived so far, if that's what you mean," she started, then sighed. "The statistics haven't been good. Those sentinels are good at what they're doing…" she paused, and looked at Zandra, "When they're doing their job, at least.

"A few hours before the battle started the Councilors got everyone together and rallied for a war effort. Pretty much everyone that could fight got a gun, and everyone else was evacuated into various safe rooms, though some of the safe rooms didn't hold up very effectively…

"When they rallied us together former Councilor Emory revealed his plan for survival. He said he'd been planning this for years – an EMP that wouldn't fry its own hardware, and could be easily recharged. He made two of these 'batteries', placed them in other safe rooms so that the sentinels couldn't destroy it. We thought that would be our saving grace, and it seemed to work.

"The first time we used it, we thought we'd won. There were a few hundred sentinels in the dock, and within seconds they had all fallen, all dead. It recharged, and a few of the troops decided to turn in, thinking the worst was already over. But they came back, and they had learned their lesson.

"It was always only a few hundred at a time; they'd come in, knock as many troops as they could before the EMP hit. A few of them even retreated back to the pipes right before we fired it – they had it figured out so well. And then the recharging time became a problem: they'd come in with almost a thousand in the ten minutes we needed to recharge and we'd lose so many men… so many…"

"What was the last count before you left?" Shade asked.

"We originally had twenty thousand, most of which were volunteers. By the time we left… six thousand dead, five hundred unaccounted for. They're probably dead, too."

The whole table was silent; Zandra shook her head in thought. 

"Somehow," Zandra started, eventually getting the attention of everyone on the ship, "Somehow we need to get them to stop fighting."

"Stop fighting?" Mercury repeated, "You mean give up?"

Zandra sighed, pooling all her memories of conversations. "They're only fighting us in self-defense. I think that if we let on that we're willing for a cease-fire, they'll grant it to us."

Mercury was quiet, but Zandra could tell he didn't believe her.

"Would it be instantaneous?" Columbus asked, "I mean – would they stop the instant we did?"

"I don't know."

Columbus was quiet; it seemed like slowly Zandra was going to lose the support of everyone. Zandra continued: "I just know we have to do it."

Columbus nodded: a reaction that even Zandra was surprised to see.

"We'll have to get in quickly," she said, "They'll be firing the batteries every chance they can, if the battle's still going on."

"Will the radios work?" Asked Shade.

"They should." Silence again.

"So we need to get them to stop those batteries," Zandra said, staring off into space.

"You're gonna have to convince them all," Columbus replied.

"I know."

Things went quietly the next few hours, and Zandra was able to finally get some more rest. Her injuries were still healing, and fatigue seemed to be taking over almost every hour. They didn't wake her when the sentinels showed up, and they didn't bother to mention to her that they were acting more like bodyguards than soldiers of destruction. 

Outside their fast-moving hovercraft almost a dozen sentinels flew; both in synch with their speed and huddled in various spots around the hull. Kesia had been mortified when they scanned the ship, but she wasn't afraid anymore. Finally, Zandra's presence had taught her that fear was unnecessary. The sentinels had been scanning for the One – and their mission was not to destroy. This time, they were sent to insure that their ship didn't go down, at all costs.

A/N – quicker, eh? Aw, I think everyone's finally getting tired of this story. Well, good news – only a few chapters left. Like three.


	30. Entry

Protector of Men Ch 106

"Councillor Cochran," Columbus said with resignation, "We have to get in _now_." She stood in front of the communications screen stiffly; Cochran was not easily convinced of their urgency; she was not easily convinced of his authority to say otherwise.

"I'm _sorry_, you have to understand – we can't afford to lose any more, and the batteries are almost charged. I'd recommend you wait for ten minutes before getting within five kilometers."

"Councillor, I think you're going to want us in there as fast as possible."

"If you wait," he said, his temper rising quickly, "You'll have safer clearance!"

At this point Columbus gestured for the recently-woken Zandra to take the headset.

"Hello, Zandra," the councilor said warily. Zandra didn't smile.

"We can't stop and wait for the batteries to blow."

"Well, I'm sorry-"

"I know how to finish this – I just need access. The sooner we're back the sooner it'll end."

"You have a definite plan?"

"Yes."

"And you're on your way now?"

"We're asking for clearance," she said, looking to Columbus. The captain nodded in agreement. The councilor sighed.

"I can't guarantee anything," he said slowly, "But I'll do everything I can to get you in safely. I can't stay on with you here forever, though."

For a moment he left the screen, but he came back with a soldier.

"I'm leaving you to Private Gabe here – he's gonna open the doors for you when you're ready. We've mapped your trajectory, and you should arrive – that, is, if everything goes well out there…" he coughed, and continued. "You should arrive in no more than a half hour."

He clapped Gabe on the shoulder and left with a half-hearted smile; Gabe looked down with what seemed humility. Columbus took the headset back from Zandra and asked how Zion was doing so far. Zandra wasn't paying attention, but it didn't seem good. Columbus quietly swore as the private described what carnage Zion had endured in the past days. 

It was time for another round of Alias' home remedies. Zandra was tired again; the effects of the Libertas' crash hadn't completely worn off and her head was still painful (though much lessened by Alias' pain medication) from the impact. The ship was warm and Zandra felt that she was walking in a dream. She traced the wall with her fingers as she walked.

"Ready for another one?" Alias asked, putting down a syringe. She hopped with a clunk off the table and gathered supplies for Zandra's medication. "Still feeling tired?"

"Muddy," Zandra mumbled, staring into the hallway. "How long should this last?"

"Not much longer," she answered, squirting a bit of medication from a new syringe. "We have a little bit of time, and this should help."

Zandra winced as the needle was plunged into her shoulder.

"Just come home, okay? It's safer over here."

"I dunno mom, it's just… it's hard to get outside, you know?"

"I don't want you staying there! Do you know what's been happening?"

"I know mom, I know. I'll come… it'll just take a while, okay? I gotta make sure I can get out safely and everything."

Outside he could hear the dull thud of another person falling to the ground. That was the sixth one today, and it was only getting worse. The scariest thing was, they all survived.

"Something's wrong here mom, I dunno what it is-"

"I know Will, I know. I think they'll explain things once it all slows down but for now… you just need to get home."

The ambulances didn't bother coming when someone was injured. Most people were _trying_ to injure themselves, testing their limits, testing the world around them. It was no use going out anymore – their injuries (if any,) were minimal, and didn't necessitate any assistance. Plus, everyone was on their own… for the moment. Something was wrong, and everyone was suddenly alone in the struggle to find out what exactly was real, and what wasn't.

William had never been possessed, but he had seen it happen to others. He had watched (was it only two hours ago?) as his secretary, Mauve, changed into another person. She was presenting a fax to him and fell into convulsions – but before Will could call for help, he was standing in front of a man in a suit. And before Will could speak a word of disbelief, the agent had broken open the door and left. But that wasn't the only time; there had been many others both before and since. 

Someone had disappeared; someone actually vanished in front of his eyes while he walked the few blocks back to his apartment. The man looked to the sky, screamed, and was wiped out of existence. Will stopped cold, questioned his own judgement, and hurried home. He locked the door several times before he was somewhat confident of his security. He sat down and picked up the phone to call his sister and remembered belatedly that she was permanently unavailable.

It had been a hard three months since her disappearance. Had it really been only three months? For everyone that knew her it felt like an eternity. She would have known what to do in a situation like this, wouldn't she? Hell, she probably would have been out there with the rest jumping around and trying to kill themselves.

They said she was a terrorist, but even William could see through their propaganda. Alex couldn't have been a terrorist. She might have been curious, but that was all. Curiosity was one of her biggest assets. It couldn't have killed her.

William put down the phone with a click, ironically still so close to contacting her. 

He started as his television came to life at a crashing volume; after a few seconds of green the screeching noise went down a few decibels to a more acceptable level. Will recoiled, and moved to watch the renegade television from a more secure spot. He crouched behind his chair and watched.

"This is an emergency news alert," the screen blasted, a woman's face faintly coming into view, "From CNN.

"The UN has declared a state of emergency in all civilized nations. Please take cover in a building until further notice. Your state government has sanctioned the release of _all_ State Troops in the hopes of restoring order to the country. This message has been sent to you via your local government. The UN advises all populations not to panic. With your cooperation, order will be restored swiftly and thoroughly."

The screen faded to gray, but stayed on. Will slumped against his chair, and that was when his mother called.

A/N – whoooh. Okay maybe three chapters left NOW. I'm not sure. Only 18 days of school till I graduate! WOOHOO

Aqua_phoenix – aw, thanks. Well, it's nice to know that people are keeping up; I was starting to worry that everyone had just left. But now I have 9 people that favorited me instead of 7! So I guess I was wrong…

Alocin – I know how you feel about not sitting around the website in a while… I totally stopped going to this one fanfic website bc of school and I feel really bad about abandoning them :(

Kal – a reading leprechaun? Iiinteresting….. :p


	31. Clearance to Dock

Protector of Men Ch 107

The Mayflower was on approach. The dark pipeways became more ordered; large imposing turrets littered the walls they passed. Columbus had asked for clearance only minutes before. They told her she had ten before they blew the batteries. They were five away from the dock, which didn't give them much time to land.

But Zandra's intention was to stay in the air as long as they could. If Zion blew the batteries again they'd destroy Zandra's one chance to stop the fighting before the sentinels came again in full force. If those batteries were blown before they could get in, the machines might change their mind. But if they could stay up, if they could prolong the explosion just a few minutes… perhaps those machines could get away until it was over. 

A few hundred meters ahead the giant doors began to open. Zandra watched with anticipation, waiting for the thin dazzling slit of light that would soon shoot from its crevice. But it was dark; the lights in Zion were out, and the only change was a faint glimmer of fire from a half-kilometer off. She stood with Columbus in the cockpit, and neither of them spoke.

"Captain - we can't touch down yet," Zandra said, almost a whisper. Columbus didn't look at her, but continued staring at the blast doors that they would soon arrive at. She didn't breathe for a few seconds.

"If we don't go down they'll do it anyway."

"Maybe we can get them to wait… just a few minutes."

Columbus wasn't going to ask why they needed to stay in the air; there was no point in it. Whatever this girl wanted to happen, she would do. Anyone would – they had to. It wasn't so much that she had become a leader, but she presented a solution when the others had none. Zandra represented a lasting hope that many didn't hold anymore. Anyone would follow that.

The fire loomed larger as they passed through the gates. Their small band of sentinels continued to guard the ship as they entered Zion. Gunfire continued in the distance: intermittent flashes from various floors. There was something disquieting about the silence of the ship contrasted with the climactic turmoil in Zion. Zandra watched the surrounding dock with anticipation. Three minutes left.

"Would we even land in time?" she asked.

"It'd be a gamble," Columbus answered, "But I'll take my time."

Zandra paused. "Thanks."

There was an explosion from a few meters below them; someone had fired a rocket grenade at a sentinel that now threatened to crash directly on the troops that had ended its existence. Zandra looked away when it hit; Columbus swore again.

"They're all killing each other," she whispered. The violence never stopped. Zion was so accustomed to death and defeat that a victory – even a temporary truce seemed improbable. Nonetheless, they continued fighting.

Columbus' radio sprang to life, and an angry commander appeared on a screen in front of them.

"Touch down, Captain," the commander ordered, "You have little more than a minute left, and we won't be generous with what little time we still have."

"Yes, sir," Columbus, replied, and turned off the radio. But instead of descending safely onto the Zionite docks, she turned up the power and continued floating through Zion's interior.

There were forty seconds left. The cockpit blasted to life: warnings began beeping their alarms in the Mayflower, and one of the crew was asking Columbus if she needed assistance on the P.A. Still, neither of them spoke. It would only be a little bit before things started happening. One of the sentinels flying with their ship bumped into their hull on it's injured descent, and Zandra felt a brief wave of rage over its termination. Couldn't they see it was protecting them? Couldn't they see that it was trying to help?

Troops on the residence floors of Zion pecked intermittently at the Mayflower's hull. It wasn't consequential damage, but they were warning Columbus of impending power loss. Their time was up, and for a moment, Columbus changed course and aimed down. None of them would be of any help if they died in a crash. It was a brief lapse into logic.

"Stay up!" Zandra shouted, the ship now veering in a wide circle around the large dock. She tried to grab the ship's controls, but a sudden turn caught her off-balance and sent her into the nearest wall. Sentinels began joining the Mayflower from their stations throughout Zion, and a few were picked off by Zion's defenses. The metal hull clinked with every bullet entry; though they didn't damage the ship, it was altogether unsettling.

"We have to go down sometime," Columbus countered. A sentinel crashed into the side of the ship on it's way to the ground. "Stop shooting," she whispered fervently.

"They'll blow the batteries!" Zandra replied, "And then they'll think we've caved!"

Columbus had no reply, and therefore continued the ship's circular trajectory. Finally a few sentinels decided to momentarily retreat into the pipeways, as she had hoped. Zandra cursed as more sentinels fell to the ground.

An alarm went off in Zion; a warning shot was fired from one of the squads. To them, it was hard to tell which side the Mayflower was working for, and while that ship was in the air, their job was almost impossible. Almost a hundred sentinels had left the dock, but they were still in range. Only a few seconds more – only a minute and perhaps the truce could still work.

"We're going down!" Columbus shouted, plunging her ship down into the detritus of the ground. Zandra didn't have a chance to counter her. The ship landed with a heavy thud and less than thirty seconds later the power had gone out. It was silent now in Zion, except for the intermittent crashes of fallen sentinels and the quiet cheering of a thousand troops.

A/N – I know this is a short chapter, but this and the next are connected. Next chapter should be out quickly – I've already written it. Just have an open mind, lol…

Aqua – you have a cool neighborhood! Where I live, I think people would just go on with their lives. We're too worried about pretending to be rich to think about reality and such… heh.

Alocin – yeah, Will hasn't been around for a while – but he was mentioned a few times in Reprise, I remember.


	32. Messiah

Until the day I die, I'll spill my heart for you

We make the same mistakes, I'll take the fall for you, I hope you need this now, 'cause I know I still do…

Until the day I die, I'll spill my heart for you

As years go by, I race the clock with you, but if you die now, you know that I die too… I die too

Protector of Men Ch 108

"Get out, get out!" Zandra shouted over the P.A., "We have to stop this!" She punched the door button and left Columbus in the cockpit, too concerned with her mission to wait for confirmation. She would take no gun; this was a mission of peace. If they wanted to kill her there would be nothing she could do either way.

Sentinels lay haphazardly on the ground mixed with the bloodied corpses of soldiers and the wreckage of all their hovercrafts. She had to find a way to stop the soldiers now interspersed on every floor of Zion before the next wave of sentinels arrived. Time was of the essence.

Within minutes she had reached the elevator to Zion's main levels, the weapons deck in mind. She saw Shade running towards her as she punched the button to go and shook her head. She could not wait: this was her battle.

She began to hear the humming of sentinels as the elevator creaked slowly upwards. Only a minute or so before the coming onslaught – and even Zandra didn't know what was going to happen. If the machines saw the EMP as a rejection of a ceasefire, she'd be dead. Of course, she had come to accept whatever happened, even if it meant death.

The elevator stopped and she ran for the weapons deck. The humming grew louder. She reached the door and flung it open, expecting councilors, generals – but the deck was deserted. Sparks flew from the fried control panels, and mutilated bodies lay on the ground. She paused, her breath caught for a moment. She looked for a P.A. system, but couldn't find one amidst the broken electronics systems.

There was a dull explosion outside the small room. Zandra looked – the sentinels had arrived anew, and someone had fired a rocked at the oncoming masses. She felt a rush of adrenaline as the realization came that this was the moment. It had to be done now. 

She dashed outside and began climbing an abandoned ladder to the top of the weapons deck. Below, Shade was calling for her, begging her to come back down, but she ignored him. If even one soldier could see her, could hear her, maybe they would stop.

The combination of fear, exertion, and stress weighed hard on her as she scaled the ladder, but the thought of impending doom forced her to move faster. Only a few more yards to go, and now more than anytime else Zandra feared the electric sound of an EMP. Hopefully she still had a few minutes. 

She pulled herself to the top of the deck, clinging fearfully to the spire of antennae bolted to its surface. From here she could see floors ten and below, all following the schools of sentinels with fearful eyes. She watched as another troop of sentinels erupted from the breach in the dock. More rockets headed for them, and more firing broke out.

"Stop!" Zandra screamed, waving her arms in terror, "Stop!"

They couldn't hear her – the sound of machine fire and rockets drowned out her pleading voice.

"Stop!" she repeated, "You have to stop!"

A few sentinels stopped midair and registered Zandra's existence. They inched toward her, one scanned her. She stood petrified, awaiting death. More sentinels paused to stare, and a few fell from the constant fire of the troops.

There was another explosion; Zandra was deafened by the sound of it and recoiled in terror. But before she got a chance to see the cause of it, she was snatched by one of the sentinels and was sent soaring into the air.

It was over; she knew it. Zandra looked up at her kidnapper; the sentinel was flying upwards and forwards, and now another arm was grabbing at hers for support. Her eyes began to black out from vertigo: she was twenty stories up, at the mercy of one of the killing machines that she had been attempting to save. A few people below had stopped fighting for a moment and watched the small figure rising through the air, dangling by her feet.

The sentinel stopped moving and used its free arms to further support her; she was now cupped in its tentacles like a delicately handled bird. She looked around, clutching the arms of the machine. People at eye level watched her, bewildered, their guns loosely trained on the sentinel that kept her alive.

"Nono," she mumbled, attempting to find her voice, "Don't shoot…"

A few more sentinels came her way and hovered close behind where she sat. There they waited; their arms curled under them, their eyes blinking in inactivity. Zandra looked around. She couldn't recognize faces – everyone was a stranger now, all watching her, unmoving and unblinking. That moment she wished more than anything else to see a friendly face – anyone: Columbus, Kesia, Shade…

In a short gasp she brought herself back into the moment. She still had a mission.

"Zion!" she shouted, cupping her hands so that perhaps Zion could hear her. There was another small explosion, and she paused before trying again.

"Zion!" she repeated, "You can end this now!"

Her voice seemed louder, and her confidence grew. She sat up straighter, and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Declare a ceasefire!" she shouted, "And they will leave us!"

The sentinels hummed with energy; Zandra buzzed with it. With the machines every Zionite could hear her voice; electricity pulsed through her like lifeblood and it invigorated her. She stood, and the sentinels adjusted.

"I promise you, Zion – put down your weapons and we will have peace!"

Everything was quiet, and all of Zion looked to her for direction. The sentinels offered their power to her; she now stood a thousand feet in the air on a tower of living machinery, five thousand sentinels tall. They came to her for protection because now, Zion dared not destroy the machines that held up their messiah. Zandra looked to her people, and they stared back, frozen. 

"Turn off the batteries and they will leave!"

Her voice came booming from every speaker in Zion, her image ingrained permanently in the minds of free mankind. They looked up at her and they knew: the war was over. 

__

The war was over.

It seemed like her attempt was finally working; Zion's battalions had stopped firing, and it seemed she had finally gained their full trust. Perhaps it would only be a few moments before the sentinels would put her back on solid Earth and leave…

"It is _they_ that ask for peace!" she continued, palms outward. In the distance she heard one officer telling his troops to put down their weapons. _It's alright_, Zandra told herself, _it'll be over soon._

There was a whizzing noise and Zandra stumbled backward on her tiny tower of machinery, knocked off balance. The sentinels struggled to accommodate her, rapidly moving backward to catch her feet. She couldn't breathe; she looked down – blood was staining her shirt, falling from her chest in intermittent spurts. She recoiled and stumbled further, and as she fell, everything became dark.

Zion watched with horror as their messiah fell; watched with hope as the sentinels flew down after her, knowing that they too depended on her.

But it wasn't enough, and seconds later everyone heard the pitiful crash of flesh onto metal. 

They stood motionless, speechless. They gaped down the innumerable floors of Zion, sometimes crouching, sometimes leaning, sometimes sitting, all with their faces turned to the ground. Was this true? Was this real? Had they really killed their own messiah?

She was too far down for them to see her clearly. She was only a dot among the wreckage. A few searched for her with binoculars, but inevitably they threw them aside in tortured exasperation. Still everything was quiet. The troops put down their guns, fully sobered. Sentinels began gathering around her body and still Zion made no movement.

Shade watched from only a floor above, silent as everyone else. She meant as much to him as she did to everyone. Dread prevented them from looking too closely. She wasn't gone – she couldn't be; she had _saved his life_, she had saved _all of their lives_. Alias put a comforting arm on his shoulder. The sentinels crowded around her body and a faint light grew from their center. Certainly they could save her.

Emory watched from outside his apartment with a mixture of accomplishment and resignation. She had stopped the war – Zion was completely in her hands. But after this… either the machines would save her, or they'd eradicate Zion for good. They had attacked their own messiah.

The sentinels moved from their formation and retreated momentarily from Zandra's unmoving body. Two of them moved back forward and picked her up, her limbs splayed helplessly against their metal bodies. 

She wasn't conscious, but she wasn't too far-gone, either. Somehow, whether it was a construct of the machines' making or a hallucination, she found herself in a hospital bed. Too tired to speak, she merely watched as nurses hurried in and out of the small room she lay in. 

"Sorry kid," one of them said, approaching with a mask that she gingerly placed on Zandra's face, "You're gonna go out for a little while."

Shade continued to watch in silence. Alias had long removed her hand from his shoulder and now stood leaning heavily against the banister that separated them from the docks below. He felt guilty that he wasn't any more emotional. Certainly if she were dead he would be more forlorn than any. She _had_ to be alive, why would they be so nervously hovering around her still? She couldn't die. 

"What do we do?" a voice asked, the words echoing in everyone's mind. No one answered.

"Alright hon," a nurse said with a gentle smile, "You're all done."

Zandra stared back, and the nurse patted her forehead tenderly. 

"You'll be back up in a few hours," she continued. "We'll leave before then. Be careful at first though: you're more metal than flesh, now."

The nurse laughed good-naturedly and left. For Zandra, everything went dark again.

Within ten minutes the sentinels had all left; Zion still stood where they were, wholly speechless and devoid of thought. All of Zion was quiet. A fire burned faintly in the distance, illuminating the city in a dim warm light. And still, Zandra lay on a corridor not far from where she fell. There was a brief beeping sound, and six people ran to her from an elevator behind her. They wore white, and two of them carried a stretcher. Carefully they picked her up and soon she was off to the infirmary. Zion's healing would begin.

And still the sentinels stayed away. The war was over.

A/N – hooly crap that was a long chapter. Well, it was important, so I guess it's okay. Technically this is the 'end', but there will be multiple afterwards. Maybe two.

Alocin – too weird? Was your mind open enough?


	33. Epilogue I

Protector of Men Ch 109… almost done….

THANKS TO REVIEWERS YOU MADE MY WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everything had quieted down in the small town that the Richards had taken refuge in. There were no more homicides, no more suicides, no more bomb threats. The constant screaming had long stopped and already it seemed that the world had righted itself. Outside, a man had paused next to the drug store, dressed in jeans and slowly pulling himself on top of a wooden crate. A crowd was quickly amassing. They all listened; he had answers to give.

He explained that something _was_ wrong with the world – they weren't going crazy as some had assumed. There was no terrorist, no biological attack, no nuclear warfare.

They didn't have to ask why reality seemed to be failing.

Reality was failing, he said in a quiet, passive tone, simply because their world _wasn't_ reality. Unhurriedly, tenderly, he told them that what they thought was the world was really only a simulation of it.

That was the oppression – _that_ was the source of their uncertainty and fear. Everyone easily accepted the fact that this place wasn't real. After the things they had all endured over the past days, it was a relief.

They were allowed to go into the real place, the man assured them, but he also warned them that perhaps they'd want to wait a while. The real world had just finished a long war and was still healing, so life might be hard. Maybe unreality would be good enough for them – for a while.

But the choice was theirs, he asserted. The choice was always theirs.

Around the world there were lectures very similar; across every continent every human being was being told the truth; unaltered, undiluted, unbiased. The Matrix had finally been fully exposed. The machines had feared that day since it's glorious inception, expecting attacks on the mainframe, hacks into reality, violence against those who had no feeling nor life. But the attacks never came – it seemed like life had disintegrated so fully in the Matrix over the past days that any reality was better accepted.

For now, there was total peace in both worlds.

"There was a war," the man explained, "Between those of us who governed your world, and those who live outside."

The war, he said, lasted many years, and many people died. But some were still alive, and perhaps there were still those inside the Matrix who yet remembered them.

"They might have been called terrorists," he continued, "Killers, or traitors."

Yes, there were many of those in the world. But some of those who had been labeled so unfairly, he told them, had merely escaped the illusion of the false world that they currently stood in. Many had escaped over the past thirty years or so – estimated at roughly twenty-five thousand. He promised that lists would be posted of those released during the war's duration.

"For now," he advised, "Enjoy what you have here. Outside is a war torn world."

He stayed around a few minutes after he had finished his speech to answer questions, though neither William nor his mother had any to ask. They stood silent on the sidewalk, digesting what the machines had assumed was deadly information.

And everywhere the same thing happened. People looked to the sky, wondering what those in the real world were going through, what it was like, how it was different. But it was just wondering – harmless, hate-less.

William wondered if he would go into the real world. Would it be worth it? After all that had happened, did he want more to remind him of the torment he lived through? Certainly his mother would prefer living at home, and certainly he would do anything to stay with her. They were a fraction of a family, and they had to keep together to survive.

They would change their mind once they saw the list of rebels.

The matrix was going through a multitude of repairs. Once the machines were in the position to cater to their prisoners' needs, they realized that masking the Matrix's framework wasn't their top priority. Instead, they moved to put on life support those who had aborted the program prematurely and were stuck in their pods, unable to breathe. They made plans to create transport ships for when Zion was ready to accept new citizens. It was a different environment now, and everyone had to adapt. Many bugs were being fixed so that the future could be secured.

Perhaps, with time, even the sky could be repaired.

A/N – again, sorry for time delay. I had a choir show that took up all of my time and then getting ready for the end of school… let's just say I graduate on Saturday and I can't wait.


	34. Epilogue II

Protector of Men – last chapter!!

Sorry for the delay. I needed a break, and it turned out to be a long break.

Before I start, I want to thank everyone that helped me get through this. Thanks to all the reviewers who stuck it out the whole time (I know it was hard – it was hard enough writing it), thanks to all you guys who were so kind and appreciative of the work I've put into this. I don't say that I'm a great writer, but you guys definitely made me feel like it! :) It's been a long time, and I'm glad to be done with it. Thanks again, you guys. It means a lot to me that you responded.

Zion's halls teemed with people: some lay on the ground, wounded, others lay crouched at their sides, still more stood motionless at their feet, hoping they could do something to help. Medics patrolled the halls hurriedly, sporadically checking the vitals of those who were hurt. All those unscathed worked to repair Zion.

Zandra lay in one of the few beds in the medical bay, awake. She insisted she was fine; insisted that she too be a part of the reparations, but the medics had refused her.

"You've just woken up," they told her, "You're too fragile for any exertion."

It had been four days since 'the end', as Zionites were beginning to call it. Zandra had initially regained consciousness on the third day, but still she had not been allowed to even stand.

Once she finally gave up, she instead asked for news of the crew.

"Do you think you're ready to talk to them?" a medic asked, rather timidly. Zandra tried not to reply with obvious annoyance. A minute or so later the crew walked in with varying looks of concern. Shade immediately went to her side, clasping her hand tightly and examining her face.

"Are you alright? It's been four days…"

"I'm fine." He nodded, looking down.

"We all thought…when we saw…" he began, tracing her hand with his fingers, falling silent. Zandra took a look around the small room. Kesia stood closest to Shade, followed by Alias, and Captain Columbus.

"They left?" Zandra asked, looking to those behind Shade. They nodded.

"After you fell," Columbus started, clearing her now quiet voice, "They looked after you for a while and left. We haven't seen them since."

"Has anyone been to broadcast?"

"Not yet," Columbus answered, "Council's waiting for you to okay it."

They were all silent for a few moments.

"I think I can get up," Zandra said, loosening the sheets from her thin bed, Shade moving back to accommodate her. Kesia watched anxiously while Alias moved to prevent any medics seeing. Shade offered a hand, but she refused.

Deftly she swung her legs over the bed and tested the ground; in a moment she was standing, moving her weight experimentally from one foot to the other. The others watched, soon caught by surprise as she flung herself back onto the bed.

"Someone's coming," she whispered.

Within ten minutes she was out of the room and sauntering slowly down a hallway with her crew in tow. They were quiet; the only sound obvious to them was the intermittent clunk of Zandra's foot on the metal floor.

"Everythin' still running smoothly?"

"Better than I had expected, admittedly."

"You gotta admit she handled things well-"

The Architect turned to face the Oracle and paused.

"All that has been accomplished is a testy waiting period."

"That's all they hoped for," she replied slowly. They both said nothing for a few seconds and watched the people sauntering about in front of them.

"May I ask," the Architect began, "How much of your own interference can be attributed to this said 'success'?"

"Not much… I don't think any of us expected _this_."

"It's a clever game," he replied, "But rest assured the mainframe will be watching your… actions – when the real anomaly arrives."

The Oracle looked to him in disbelief.

"You really think he'll show up, even after all this?"

"He has to. That's how the program works."

"That's gonna be interesting," she sighed, looking at the wandering people again, "We could have a real problem once _he_ shows up."

"But," she continued, looking to the Architect, "If she's still around, we never know, do we?"

"No," he said, shaking his head, "We never know."

"Did you get a look at her X-Rays?" a medic asked, huddled in an empty corner of the crowded med bay. A few people nodded.

"What's on it?" one asked. The medic pulled out a x-ray full of white areas – full of metal.

"Did they-"

"I think so," the medic replied, nodding at the surprised faces on many of the students.

"Her whole spine, her legs – almost everything."

"She wouldn't have made it if they hadn't fixed her up first-"

"Does she know?"

"She has to," the medic answered, "She'd be able to tell; she didn't ask any questions."

They were quiet for a moment, digesting the idea. A few beds down an alarm sounded, and the students went back into action.

The crew stood around the entrance to the mess hall quietly, awkwardly. No one had to ask where they were going – it just seemed the right place to go. After a few minutes of silence they were led to a large table. Zandra ignored the obvious stares as well as she could, while the crew tried not to notice.

"Engineering says the Mayflower can be fixed," said Columbus, breaking the silence. A few of the group nodded, and it was quiet again. Alias motioned to a nearby waiter for some drinks. Zandra began flexing her fingers, experimenting with movement.

"I guess that means we could go back out," Shade said, looking to Zandra. She waited, then nodded slowly.

"I guess we could." She looked to Shade, a smile slowly appearing on his weathered face. She returned the gesture, their hands clasped gently under the table. Zandra looked at Columbus.

"It looks like it's over."

"I think it is," the captain replied. The waiter returned and placed small glasses in front of each of them; Alias tipped him and looked around. She picked up her glass.

"Cheers?" she asked, looking to each of their group in turn.

"Yeah," they said slowly, "Cheers."

This is a hard story to end. :(

But I hope to continue writing!! Harry Potter is nagging at me, so we'll see.


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